


Tell me, do you bleed?

by ComradeH



Category: IS: Infinite Stratos
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-08 12:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21475672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComradeH/pseuds/ComradeH
Summary: [REWRITE] A high school student turned veteran, then again turned into the first male IS pilot of his country. He was thrusted into a world of troubles and issues. Among the three options of "Fight - Flight - Hide", the first was picked. The dramas of the IS Academy or the powder keg of the political and social traumas, he would face them all - Because there is no surrender!
Relationships: Huang Lingyin/Orimura Ichika/Shinonono Houki/Charlotte Dunois, OC/Sarashiki Kanzashi/Cecilia Alcott/Laura Bodewig
Kudos: 2





	1. Welcome committee

So, this was the Haneda international airport in Japan. Even for a Sunday afternoon, it was fairly busy. The lines for the customs offices were quite long, easily packing hundreds of people. I failed to resist the urge to scan the reception halls. Old habits died hard, and ones forged in the fire of war were even harder to cure. Sure, officially, it was not a war, but a “terrorist” attack. But for me, an unfortunate soul who was stuck behind the line for nearly three-quarters of the whole debacle? Heh, it was a war for me.

Contrast to my fear and suspicion, the border control officer cleared my passport fairly quickly. Though I was sure that the officer whose booth I went through had his eyebrows raised high for a very brief moment. Considering the shit I went through, it would be strange not having my name logged in some database. Not persona non grata (unwelcomed people), but probably an entry on “people of interest” list.

Not wonderful, but at least, not terrible. I had seen worse.

Clicking my tongue, I quietly collected my baggage while still scanning around. No one was looking in my direction, or rather, being caught while doing so. No muscular men with the sunglasses on standing in the corner. And above all, no one was shooting at me. Peacetime was great, I must say.

A few advertisements were running for the Amazon Brigade, the union of IS pilots around the world. Seeing them made me a bit annoyed, there was bad blood between me and them. Though to be honest, I would say it was coming from me only, my own biased, one could say, shaped through a turbulent time known as “school”.

At least the custom office was much nicer. Not super comfortable like fully leather-cladded sofa and with a steaming cup of tea served by a beautiful lady with a form-fitting business suit, but still “nice” for someone who wanted nothing more than peace and tranquillity. Of course, for me, those two would be something luxurious and unachievable. Being an official IS pilot meant access to an opulent lifestyle. Being a boy in an IS-dominated society meant losing a lot of prestige and dignity.

Being the first male IS pilot, on the other hand, put me in the “people of interest” list. By the way, me being an IS pilot (despite having XY chromosomes) was a long story, and I had no idea how that happened.

That, and I was not allowed to have the IS suit being near me during flight. Something about safety regulation. But seriously, my suit could be stored safely in a ring, so why would they be bothered by that? Just chucking it into a box and I could safely bring it with me into the cabin without fear of “accidental activation.”

Still, rules were rules. Even if I was not enjoying them, I still had to follow them. The Japanese officials were also quite understanding too. Hands were shaken, condolences were spoken and notes were exchanged. Having an expert’s knowledge of custom business never hurt.

The ring fit nicely on my finger, the left middle finger to be precise. It was just a plain, dull, grey metallic ring with a completely unassuming appearance. The only thing noteworthy was that it seemed to be slightly thicker than a normal ring. Still, it was just as wide as its cousins found on rock singers’ fingers, so there was nothing thing strange about it. Well, until the people realized that I was storing my fully combat-capable Infinite Stratos suit.

Bidding farewell to the custom office in the airport, there was only one thing left to do: finding my ride to the Academy. And this was where things started to go wrong. I had made a request to have an incognito ride, and I knew for sure that a freaking white limousine with the emblem of IS Academy on it was not “incognito”. It took a few more calls to Home to confirm this change. The Headmistress of the Academy did not enjoy having a VIP riding in a mundane vehicle. Home just shrugged their shoulders and neglected to inform me that.

Something about me being childish. Well, excuse them, I was just seventeen, I hated being in the spotlight and I was being called childish? Yeah, the trip to Japan just had to begin fine and dandy like this…

I suppress my own annoyance, I walked up to the chauffeur, who was a forty-something man with slim built, black hair, black suits and white gloves. Before I had the chance to say anything, he had already spoken up:

“Are you Nguyen Quang Anh? The new Vietnamese student at the Academy?”

English. I was impressed. The stories online painted Japanese as people with… a lot of trouble speaking a foreign language. Yet, the man in front of me was able to speak it fluently with minimal interference from his own accent.

“Yes, yes I am.”  
“Welcome to Japan. My name is Tanaka Akira, I will be your driver today.”

I noticed that it was the proper order of surname – a given name used commonly in the area under influence of Chinese influence (as much as my nationalism found the part “influence” annoying). Clearly, this man had done his homework. In Vietnam, the naming convention was just like that: surname, optional middle name, and given name. The same could not be said for the Western world though.

“Thank you Mr. Tanaka, it’s nice to meet you.”

And just like Home had ordered me, I needed to be friendly and cooperative. I did not really enjoy talking to other people. Not like the introvert where they were drained after a conversation, but more like I preferred being alone and playing video games than making small talk. At least basic talking and being polite was doable by me.

The ride quickly started, and luckily, the chauffeur (or at least, the Academy) was kind enough to leave some reading materials inside the cabin. I tried skimming them, but unfortunately, they were not my taste. Too many tabloids and lacking in technology. At least I still had my phone. Thanks to my… status (a male IS pilot and a junior cadet of the military), I had unlimited data credit. It was a real boon to have when I got bored on the road. In combination with the soft seats and the drinks, it took little time before I was totally engrossed in the game.

Normally, that would be the end of the day. The whole trip from the airport to the Academy was spent on video games. However, my luck was just rotten sometimes. First, I was stuck in a warzone, then I found myself capable of controlling an IS suit, later I remembered running through a jungle with a naked butt.

This time, I found my limousine being boxed on all sides by unmarked cars.

It was only now that I understood why my trainers told me not to look at my phone while on any car. I originally scoffed at that, but now, it finally dawned on me that I should always keep my guard up. Seriously, if I was a bit more vigilant, I would have sported them earlier. No use crying for spilt milk though.

My danger sense started growling, and I immediately sent a text message to Home. With a real-time connection, it would be just a minute or two before the Vietnamese Ambassador in Japan was alerted. In the best-case scenario, this would be a false alarm. But then, for the worst case, it would not be likely for me to see the next day. It was always better to be careful in situations like this.

I clicked my tongue in annoyance. If Home was a bit more… aggressive, my country could have armed me with more than basic combat skills, and they could have definitely given me some weapons. Sure, an IS suit was good, but it was flashy, cumbersome, and a giant target on my back. Meanwhile, a blade or a silenced gun could do wonders… But no! Home just had to follow strict protocols. The military training they gave me was excessive already, they said. I had to show the world the friendly face of Vietnam, they ordered.

Fuck politics.

Seriously, was that too much to have more than basic formation drilling and marksmanship? I wanted to have even more hand-on training with live ammunition, knowledge in explosive and engineering, and perhaps something about CBRN defence… But nooooo! It was too much.

Again, fuck politics.

So, here I was, being stuck on all side by unknown assailants with no immediate solution to breakthrough. If I died here, I would definitely kill those old geezers.

The unknown cars were good, I must credit them that, they were able to finally force the limousine to a complete stop on the side of the road. The chauffeur might be professional in delivering VIPs, but he was a civilian, not a sassy super spy in disguise. Though to be honest, I would really love that to be the truth. It would be really helpful in breaking out of this encirclement.

Someone was stepping off the assailant cars now, a bunch of women. Asian ethnicity, with black hairs, round faces, and slim build. All were wearing business suits with black blazers, black skirts and black leather high-heel shoes. It would not be a stretch to say that they were a group of highly capable businesswomen at first glance. However, normal businesswomen would not ride in unmarked vehicles, and they would not be carrying weapons. Melee weapons, but still weapons nonetheless

I counted six standing in the open, one was visibly unarmed, four more were carrying short swords on their hands. How did they call that? Katana? No, a katana would be longer… I briefly wondered if I should have beefed up my Japanese before coming here. But that was neither “here” and “now”. I had a more pressing issue, namely the last woman.

She had already loosened up the buttons on her blazer, showing a holstered pistol. She was the boss, I believed. She wore more jewelry, with earrings and a golden necklace. Now that I watched it more carefully, look like she had some hint of brown in the glint of her hair and some blue in the spark of her eyes. Mix-blood? Probably. In addition to these six, at least four more women were staying in the four cars surrounding us with unknown weaponry. So a ten against one odd, not precisely the best scenario for a direct flight.

The unarmed woman knocked on the window, which was pretty much the universal language for “Please open the window”. Here, I was pretty sure that the word “please” was absent. Unsurprisingly, the order was simple, given in an accented voice:

“Get out.”

licking my tongue in annoyance, I had no option left but to follow their words and to step out of the car. I kept my hands low though, if I raised them high, it would look like I was surrendering. Technically, I was surrendering, but it would be the image that counted. That, and my pride was actively preventing me from doing so.

They were taller than me. A lot. By at least 20 centimetres (about 8 inches for the Americans). I suddenly felt some intimidation as well as some uneasy memory. It was called “being scared”, and the best way of defeating it was to merge myself with the mask of “not being scared”. Fake it until on ace it, as the saying went.

“So, are you ladies here to ask me for a dance?”

Taunting my own opponent was not a wise idea, especially when I held no card. But to be honest, I did not care about it. After the war, it was hard for me to find joy anymore. Not normal fun stuff, at least. So, I had no choice but to find amusement in soldier’s dark humour and some snarky comebacks. One day, it would definitely result in having my head blown off, but not today (probably). And as I had said, I did not care about it.

The unarmed woman tried to slap me. Well, tried. I was able to block it and held her wrist tightly. Of course, I released her the moment I saw two other women behind her slightly unsheathe their blades. No need to escalate the situation any more. For now, at least. Besides, I was able to deliver a comeback, so it was an acceptable trade for me.

The lead woman then said something in Japanese, and it almost went over my head. Something about “car” and “move”. As I said, I was rusty in Japanese, even the rush course that Home gave me failed to show me any meaningful insight into this order. In short, I had completely no idea what she had just said. My eyes just blinked once, then again while my mouth did not even move at all. No one was saying anything, all eyes were still kept on me.

The silence was fairly… awkward, or suffocating. These women were not likely to tell me what they want in English, so I glanced to the side. Noticing my gaze, he quickly got my unspoken question and spoke:

“She wants you to get into that car and follow them.”  
“Ask her this, what if I don’t want to?”

The answer was quite immediate. The moment he finished translating my question, the four sword-bitches quickly unsheathed their blades and the lead female unholstered her gun and unclicked the safety. A picture was worth a thousand words, after all, I would do what they said, or they would kill me. I had no fear of death, but dying before completing the mission was highly wasteful. Therefore, following their orders was the only option left for me.

Granted, I could always lash out, but the chauffeur would be unlikely to survive unscathed. I would be immediately blacklisted if I left a civilian died on my watch. Besides, if I followed their orders now, playing the docile role, there was always a chance for me to break out of captivity and wreak havoc on their arses. Some luck would be needed though.

All five females quickly put their weapons back in the holsters, and their faces were nothing but pure contempt, disgust and hate. Though it was not that hard to notice the glee in their eyes. From someone like me, that was something. Anger and wrath were rising in my head, but I forcibly kept them from reaching my faces. If these brats thought that I was easily bullied, they were dead wrong. If these bitches believed that they could walk over me simply because they were women and I was a man, I would make sure it would be the last thing they would ever do.

“What about the driver?”

I asked, and the chauffeur translated for me again, this time, the answer came much sooner. It was not that hard to notice sorrow and dread in his voice when he answered my query:

“Nothing, they are interested in you only. Mister, I’m sorry about that.”  
“Don’t worry, it’s not your fault. Mr. Tanaka, please drive away and call for support immediately.”

On the one hand, the civilian was able to stay out of the way. On the other hand, I would be completely alone and without support. So, there would be no choice left but to head in the fire all by myself. It was quite a tall order to be honest. The whole training I got for situations like this was practically “hunker down and call fire support”.

Normally, it would be fairly easy to do. However, the… kidnappers were nothing but careful, they had already confiscated my phone (with no sensitive information stored on in) and my IS ring (already deactivated the moment I smelt trouble).

Suddenly, I felt something connecting to my stomach. The lead bitch was able to sucker-punch me, it seemed. She was adept with quick strikes, I must credit her that. However, she was not strong enough, so I was still standing tall and proud. For some strange reasons though, she yelped and caress over her own fist, which made me the target of her underlings’ glare. Funny, I only felt an itch, but somehow, she felt pain.

Two of the sword-bitches stepped up and drawing out their swords. Fighting against two of them was still hard, but more manageable than fighting four swords and one gun at the same time. It would be hard, and there was no guarantee that I would be intact by the end of the fight. Unacceptable risk, but unavoidable fight. My brain started to analyze the pattern and drawing out potential ways to fight and counter. However, before I had the chance to actually clash, the lead bitch raised her hand to stopped them, and then, using the other hand, she pulled out her handgun.

She did not unclick her safety, which was good. The bad news was that she used it to whip me. I could not block it, I could not evade it, and I possessed no skill to properly counter it. Needless to say, it hurt like a bitch. I fell to the ground with stars filling my vision. The pain was throbbing on the side of my head, with groan escaping my throat. Luckily, my pain tolerance kicked in, quickly helped me to ease all of it down. The women were laughing now, they looked totally relax… one of the sword-bitch was even bringing out her phone and taking pictures of me laying on the ground.

Good. As long as they were relaxed, they would not be watching me closely (I hoped). The unconscious part of my brain was adjusting the breath and pumping out adrenaline, killing the pain. Meanwhile, the conscious part of my brain was plotting those bitches’ demise, up to and including how to kill them efficiently.

I was pushed into a car. Though “pushed” might be a bit wrong, “thrown in” might be a better option. The pistol whip on me was highly effective in making those females dropping most of their guards. They did not even bother covering their attempt of dropping our poor limousine chauffeur. At least he was just out cold and sleeping peacefully in the car. I hope that he would wake up soon and call for reinforcement. Fighting my way out would be… practically impossible.

For now, it was better to hunker down and plan my escape. I had already picked up three phrases being repeated constantly. I lack the background information to deduce anything, but those would help for the payback (hopefully). Not enough for me to gain immediate and actionable intelligence, but guaranteed retaliation strikes (whenever that happened)

The window was tinted lightly. The view outside was only dimmed and not made invisible. I had no idea why they were that stupid, leaving me even more chance to gain intelligence. However, as the military mantra said: One should not stop the enemy who was making a mistake. The view outside was changing. It had turned from the express highway to the roads of the suburb area of Tokyo. Well, “relative” suburb of course. Tokyo was a big-arse city, and it could be said that there were even sub-cities inside. At the moment, we were at one of those areas. A bit north of the Ota ward, at the southern side of the Tokyo proper, if my estimation was correct.

I had consider breaking out and wreaking havoc. However, I was sat between two underlings, both of who had their blades out, ready to cut me down. The lead bitch, who had a gun, was behind me, giving me too little room to surprise them and take over. The risk was just too great. Dying was not an issue, after all, it was the absolute honour one soldier could ask for, but dying foolishly was just… stupid.

The convoy stopped at the conjunction of the main road with a branch street, and I was immediately dragged off the vehicle. I used a few seconds, trying to note any worthy landmark. North of Ota was still too vague for the reinforcement to arrive, I needed a better solution than brute force my way through. Too bad, this was when my luck ran out. First, I found none. Then, there was another woman waiting there.

She was bad news, I could totally feel it. Dressed sharply in form-fitting business, she finished her deadly look with a black, semi-transparent pair of leggings. With a busty top and a slim waist, it was quite easy to mistake her with a model, especially with the long smooth black hair behind her back. Hell, if I was not kidnapped in the first place, I would love to watch her hip swaying from side to side while walking towards me.

The jingling of her top, the breeze of her hair, the red of her lips, the smooth, enticing, wondrous slim legs encased in black leggings… and the very strange sparkle in her eyes.

As I said, a pity.

She was more dangerous than the whole gang sent to kidnap me, for she was holding a bag in her hand. A thick black fabric bag used to put over my head to be precise.

Darkness was all I could see next. Sure, I was able to vaguely say that there was light coming through the fabric, but I had a lot of trouble seeing through it. With that, there went my chance to gain last-minute intelligence. No way to know the precise location of my site, so I had to rely on estimation. Counting the number of steps I had taken under blindfold and estimating the direction, some mental calculation was made with reference to the last stop.

Not good enough for a Close-support package, but that should be fine to mount a rescue attempt. Especially after I gained some communication device.

Still, it would be harder, considering that the new woman also brought along some zip-ties. My wrists quickly noticed and reported the sensation of pain. It made my escape plans being… a bit harder. Then, I had to hold back the sigh on my tongue when I felt some blade (or something just as pointy) at my back. The walk went on with silence on my end. I was not used to being whiny, and these ladies were definitely not in a good mood for talking. Besides, there was likely no reason for them to be chatty. Luckily, it did not last longer than a few minutes, which meant I had walked less than a kilometre.

The bag was removed from my head, and I quickly saw a four-floor building. It was square-ish looking, with white walls, curtained window at the front, and a V-shaped roof. A small garden of sort was walled up in front of the house, with the main door being offset to the right. No decoration, no special mark was found. It was practically as unassuming as I could describe it. The neighbourhood was barely better, having nothing but a mixture of grey, white and yellow colour.

I did not have much time to dwell on the situation, trying to find a street name or landmark though. The deadly woman had already opened the door, leading the boss bitch (and subsequently, the whole gang) in. My brain started collecting the information again. This would be the shortest (and probably the bloodiest) way to freedom. Going up to the third floor, fifth door on the left. Fairly easy to remember. On my way, I saw no further camera or surveillance system, there was also no other people.

Despite the lack of any people, the building seemed to be well-furnished, giving a somewhat lived-in atmosphere… as long as one could count “lack of any personal belongings” as criteria. That, and it was quite spacious. Much larger than a common house in Japan…

I was dumped into a room. Unceremoniously, I might add. The boss bitch sneered at me, as if she had something better to do, before leaving just a pair of guards behind. Meanwhile, the new, strange woman just silently shook her head. Seemed like she was the smart and responsible one. Too bad, when I got out, she would be on the top of my kill list.

The delegation quickly left, presumable to have further discussion, leaving me alone in the room with two women, still dressed sharply in business suits. They would be quite some eye candies, even if they were armed with blades… No, they were simply my kidnappers, which put them fairly high on my shitlist.

“You stop being an IS pilot, say that to everyone, and you will be free.”

A guard spoke in broken English with a certain tinge of the Japanese accent. So, this would answer quite a few questions. They were just a bunch of zealots, a gang of idiots, a horde of terrorists. And above all, they had trespassed against me.

That would be the last mistake they would ever make.

Time to pounce.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breaking out of the kidnapping lair, part 1

There were many things that the media got it wrong. First, a SpecOp soldier was not always a maverick. Two, an unarmed fight would rarely stay the same for over thirty seconds. Three, human necks were actually very hard to snap. Being someone “in business”, I could certainly say that with the utmost degree of confidence.

A special force operative actually had many restraints upon himself, mostly to avoid attention. One would pay attention to a huge and muscular guy with a brash attitude, not an average-looking dude sipping his beer in the corner. If someone died that day in the bar because of an unarmed fight with no witness, the giant would be the first suspect, not the other dude who had already slipped away because his mission was done. Personal experience, and let’s just keep things like that.

Moving on to the second point, fighting could burn through stamina really fast. Sure, one might use his training to counter that, but even then, such people would usually shy away from CQC (Close quarter combat). It was short, yes, but it was highly intense. Using the entire body, both physical and mental aspects, was very taxing… A clear proof of this would be any boxing match. Just a single round of three minutes could see both boxers breathing heavily. They were trained and yet they had suffered that much, how about others?

And the third part about the human neck? I was taught so, and I even had practices in snapping necks. On dead bodies, of course. Using on alive humans was simply too unethical, even for special force training. I found out that the neck strength of a normal human was still too great to snap in a single shot. With tools and all kinds of preparation, sure. But in a single shot? Not a chance.

So how could I take down the opponent as quickly (and by extension, as brutal) as possible? In the good old traditional way of punches, knees and kicks, of course.

The moment the bitch guard finished her demand of me denouncing my task as an IS pilot, I dashed right to her face, throwing a straight punch at her stomach. This made her stagger back, yet unable to make a single sound. The sudden punch had already pushed every trace of air out of her lung. To follow-up, I threw out a series of punches, right hook, left uppercut, then a right chop on her neck. Within a few short seconds, she had already lost her balance.

The rule of combat prevented me from letting her go. She was only a bit winded and dazed, not out of the fight. More importantly, she was still holding the sheathed blade in her hand. If I eased down the pressure, she would definitely strike back with her blade. Considering that I was still unarmed, the situation would be… less than stellar. Therefore, I had no other choice but to maintain the pressure and finish this quickly.

Grabbing her right wrist, I twisted and turned it and she instantly dropped the blade, which meant she was temporarily unarmed. Then, to finish, I pushed my body close to her, turned around and quickly flipped her over my shoulder. A thundering “Thud” was heard and her eyes had already lost the focus. However, she was still conscious, which meant she was still a valid combatant.

To solve this issue, I just jumped on her face. Repeatedly. A few times, or a dozen… Each time, I applied more force and pressure on my feet. Contrary to its visual effect, doing like this was quite hurtful. The sudden deceleration coming from the impact with the bitch’s skull sent a shockwave through my bones. I had to re-angle my strikes a few times. Instead of slamming the whole feet down, the heel was used in its place. I only stopped when blood had already leaked out of her nose and started dropping on the floor. Not a single whimper was heard, which was good. She was already knocked out. Based on this, I would say that I had about two hours before waking up.

However, if her compliances found her before that… yeah, they would try to see if she could be brought back to the fight. It was not good at all. Therefore, she must be kept away from the clash, even if she was totally wide awake.

By any means necessary.

Luckily, I was a Commando, and I was totally prepared for this. Even if I lacked a sure-kill technique, I would still be able to send her to hell. Breaking her arm would be a nice place to start. Undressing my coat, I stuffed its arm into her mouth, just in case she was actually not that unconscious and let out some scream. Leave nothing to chance, my trainers taught me so.

Anyhow, with her mouth blocked, breaking her arm was a piece of cake. I simply had to hold her right forearm and then applied pressure on the respective elbow. A “Crack” was heard immediately. This would put her in the hospital for… two months. Even after that, recovery would be slow and annoying. There was a very high chance that she would be pulled down from the active combat force of… whoever these bitches worked for. A stone hitting two birds at the same time, I would say.

So how long the fight last? Barely a minute since I jumped on her. It was quick, efficient, and fairly stamina consumptive. I had to control my own breaths already. My heart was now pumping at 100bpm minimum. The heat was following the bloodstream, flushing my own brain, which in turn was pumping out the adrenaline all over my body. It was a good feeling, really, but I must not let it dictate my course of action. Controlling the rush of adrenaline was a must-learn skill for any SpecOp operative.

“What… what have… what have you done?”

Oh, right. I forgot. I was not kidnapped alone. The poor Japanese Representative Candidate was also a target in this debacle. Poor bastard. Being kidnapped at least twice before the age of eighteen. To be fair for him, I was fairly brutal in my fight, and blood was always sufficient to scare off any civilians. The boy here was not an exception.

I turned around and stared into his face. He was agitated, that was for sure. Laboured breath, expanded pupils, twitchy fingers… all standard features of someone being scared shitless. At least he was faring better than I had done when I first saw human’s blood. But then, he did not have blood slipping through his fingers or splashed on his own face. How… lucky of him.

“Getting us out of here, what else?”  
“But do you really have to break her arm?”  
“Yes, with her arm intact, she will be immediately capable of killing us when she wakes up. I would rather a bit brutal now and remove that risk.”  
“Can’t you simply persuade her?”

Seriously, how naïve this guy could be? Kidnappers could not be persuaded by words only. Experience and real-life situations had shown that armed response was always much better in doing so. Besides, I was a Commando, among my expertise was hostage rescue, which meant removing the kidnappers (violently much of the time) and keeping the kidnapped safe. Negotiation was not my forte.

“Give me… I’d day 3000 USD worth in money, give me a year for training, then I could answer it as yes.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“What I mean, Ichika, is that I’m not well-versed in negotiation for hostage rescue. However, I can confidently say that I’m well-trained in breaking them out.”  
“But…”  
“I’m a soldier, boy, and I’m good at my job.”

I forcefully said that before breaking away, checking my surrounding. Luckily, even with some struggling sound, no one was sufficiently near here to intervene. Therefore, we had some time before hell broke loose.

Fine for me. These kidnappers were highly incompetent, considering that they did not even search my body… Hmm. Thinking about that, they might be competent in other fields. I did not have my IS suit with me today, and Ichika had not actually received his suit yet. Both of these were only known by the governments of two countries: Vietnam and Japan. If they had moles in either, or both, of these governments, they would be confident in their abilities to subdue us.

It would work if it was not for a factor: I was a Commando. Sure, this intel was also given to the Japanese military, mostly as “professional courtesy”. Or something like that. Sending a SpecOp operative to another country undercover could be considered as a declaration of war after all. And war was the last thing we needed at the moment…

Anyhow, at least one government could be infiltrated at the moment, and the military branch was a bit luckier here. Nevertheless, it changed a little here. I still had to break out. And instead of some shounen manga where the protagonist made a frontal charge, I simply called in the support.

As I said, those bitches ignored searching for me, so they had no idea that I still had the phone in my pocket and a communicator hidden in the shoe. This time, no need to bring out the hidden stuff yet, just keep it low key with my personal phone for now. Normally, one would dial the Japanese police, but with the potential existence of a mole, I would decline to contact them. Besides, this was a “sensitive” case, so even if the Special Assault Team of the police was deployed, they lacked the… necessary firepower and will to see this to the end. I was a SpecOp from the military, so I would love to see the Tokusen of the JSDF coming for rescue.

The part where we Special forces getting payback for the humiliation from the IS supporters and users was simply an added benefit.

Through hidden codes and procedures, I was able to reach the Vietnamese Ambassador less than a minute after pressing the call button.

“Damn it, kid, you ju…”  
“I’m in a hairy situation here. One involving a baker and a cat.”

It was a code, pre-arranged from before. Simply speaking, I was being kidnapped by unknown hostile parties along with the Japanese male IS pilot, and for obvious reason, immediate extraction was requested. And in case anyone was wondering, yes, we made a fairly detailed set of codes for any situation possible.

“… Understood. Would you like me to contact the fixer team?”  
“Yes please, tell them to bring flowers, if possible. The ladies here are a bit miffed with my impoliteness.”

The military Special force group, Tokusen in Japanese, of the JSDF would be contacted immediately. They would bring an extra party favour to the mix. Besides, they would be warned about the appearance of hostile IS supporter. It was unconfirmed if there was any actual IS suit here, of course.

“When should I call you back?”  
“You should not. I’m in the middle of some business here. It would be unwise to disrupt the meeting.”

My site was not secured, so it was simply unwise to have anyone rang me first. It would draw unwanted attraction, not to mention that it could break stealth in case I was being sneaky.

“Understood. Please call back soon. Old Man really enjoyed your expertise.”  
“Likewise. Contacting with Home now, I’m going to request for permission. Then I’ll contact you again.”  
“Totally agree with that. Cry havoc?”  
“Meh, more like showing them the might of the Eastern Laos Empire.”

Sure, this was a hairy situation, but I was a soldier. And a soldier could always find humour in any situation he might find himself in. It helped to relieve some stress and pressure. Not much, sure, but every bit counted.

Anyhow, I should still stay safe and frosty, because I was carrying more than just a suit on my shoulder. There was still a greater duty for me. Not to mention that Home was paying attention to my arse due to political reasons. I was the first male IS pilot, so just by existing, I had to maintain a certain level of competency and skillfulness, if not outright going above and beyond it. Furthermore, as a Commando, I was also the sword and the shield, protecting the civilians and the innocence from harm. Failing that, it was expected of me to lay down my life for them. So… no pressure. Really.

Sighing, I re-dialled the phone. This time, I contacted Home. The Ambassador would be in charge of facilitating the rescue, but Home would be the people wrangling out as many concessions and benefits as possible. After all, a foreign citizen was just kidnapped in broad daylight on Japanese soil. Some shit must be done. And the Major loved nothing more than rubbing in the face of the Japanese IS force, something about a fiasco years ago.

“So, kid, how…”  
“Code Mauve 1-4. I repeat, Code Mauve 1-4. Over.”  
“… Has Fisher been contacted? Over.”  
“Positive. Over.”  
“Go dark, then go loud. Over.”

Translation: Home had been notified of my situation, and my Commanding officer had given me the signal to go full quantum on these bitches’ arses.

“Copy...”

I was in the middle of my line when the door suddenly opened. Another woman, still with the business dress of black skirt and blazers, stepped in, speaking something in Japanese. She stopped mid-sentence when she noticed her friend was laying with blood on the floor, and a punch was flying into her face.

“Sitrep!”  
“I’m potentially spotted, the kidnappers just send someone to check on my guard. She is down, but I assume that my cover is blown. Will attempt to reach the roof. Over.”  
“Roger that. Proceed with the order. Find and secure another place if that fails. Over.”  
“Solid copy. Anything else? Over.”  
“Negative. Good luck, trooper. Over.”  
“Thanks. Over.”

While I was receiving the last set of instructions from Major, I quickly dragged the newcomer into the room and close the door, trying to erase as much trace as possible. Though I had little faith that it would work. The boss bitch had sent someone to fetch Ichika and me, and she would definitely sound the alarm if this newcomer did not return within… say five minutes? Staying in this room was no longer an option. I had to fight my way out.

“Ready to move Ichika. Stay behind me, and if I tell you to run? Run. And don’t look back.”  
“You expect more fighting?”  
“In the armed forces, one should always expect to fight. It keeps more people alive.”  
“But then how can people live together in harmony?”

I was starting to get annoyed. Time was precious, yet it was being wasted with this guy’s questions. At least I was trying to be productive with searching the two guards’ bodies. Apart from a knife and a sword on each of the guard, there was not much to be found. The wallets only had a few basic items, and I was not totally sure if the ID cards were real. Nevertheless, these would be potential intelligence leads later.

“That is a philosophy question, one that I do not know the answer. However, I definitely know what they would do to us if we don’t get away now.”  
“What would they do? Surely they would only force us to… denounce our status as IS pilot?”

At this point, I had already finished arming myself. Though to be fair, “armed” was an exaggeration. I had only two knives and those were all. Quite hairy… Though if I kept to my stealth, I might be able to get through this. “Might” is the important word. With both sheaths being recovered from the two knocked down guards, I turned to Ichika

“Maybe, maybe not. But I’d rather not be forced to do anything in the first place. Therefore, we gotta break out.”

He did not look really convinced, but that was not my attention. I had already brought the phone out again and this time, I plugged in the earphone. This would give me a hand free while still allowing me to keep in contact with my rescuers, whenever they arrived to save me.

“Glad you call, kid. Wait a minute for the secured line.”

I patiently waited for the response. In the same time, Ichika was getting a bit restless. After all, two bloody women were laying down at his feet and the one responsible for that was still nonchalant, not being affected even the slightest.

“Okay. Line secured. We are free to talk normally.”  
“Roger that. Have you contacted the Japanese yet? I need exfil.”  
“Already done. A team is being assembled, they would arrive in your place in ten minutes. Hot exfil. Callsign Zodiac.”  
“Copy that. I’m moving out now, attempting to secure a room on the rooftop.”  
“… About that, how about telling them directly?”

A new voice suddenly appeared on the net. This time, it’s in English, albeit with some traces of an accent. Still, it was easy enough to understand.

“This is Zodiac One. En route to your position. How should I address you? Over.”  
“One. Zed. Over.”

So, this guy also knew the value of OPSEC, operational security. He would probably know about whom he was rescuing, but he was also informed about my other job. That was probably the reason why he was “inviting” me into the team. Anyhow, the “numbering” system in a SpecOp team usually meant that the guy with the highest number was usually the one with the lowest rank. That was why I took “Zed”, it was the last letter in the alphabet, denoting me as the lowest one. Besides, that would remind them that I was not actually a member of their team.

“Zed. One. Get you loud and clear. Sitrep?”  
“One. Zed. Lightly armed personnel. CQC weaponry is seen and confirmed. Potential zealotry IS supremacy supporter. Five confirmed hostiles. At least four more. Two are KO. My site is an unfinished building, four-floor high. No landmark found. Be advised, I also have a VIP with me. Over.”  
“Zed. One. Send the last traffic again. Over.”  
“One. Zed. I have the male IS pilot with me. Kidnapped together. Confirm? Over.”  
“Zed. One. We get you. Plan? Over.”  
“One. Zed. I’m gonna make my way to the roof. All recon and intel will be reported. Greenlight, yes? Over?”  
“Zed. One. Negative on that. VIP is VIP. Over.”  
“One. Zed. Negative. The second guard was sent to fetch me. Afraid that our stealth element is being lost. Greenlight for the roof, yes? Over.”  
“Zed. One… Greenlight on that. Repeat, green light for the roof. Stay frosty. Over.”  
“One. Zed. Greenlight, confirmed. Keep the link open. Over.”  
“Zed. One. Wilco.”

OK, the good news was that the rescue party was inbound. The bad news was that I had to haul arse now if I wanted to keep it free. As I said, the second guard was sent to fetch me, and if the boss bitch was still somewhat sane, she would notice this guard’s absence soon. Time was running out, and it was fast.

But then, for a Commando, time was never on their side.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breaking out of the kidnapping lair, part 2

It was hard fighting without any guns. Contrary to what many people thought, we Commando still preferred guns over blades. Fighting close-ranged was too dicey, even for trained personnel. Besides, guns were made so that all men were equal, so why did we have to throw away such a good equalizer like that? Still, I made do with what I had. There was no use crying over spilt milk. Commando was established to deal with even worse odds.

Besides, both Ichika and I had to GTFO. The second guard being sent here meant that the boss bitch wanted our arses for some reasons, and if my suspicion was correct, we would be better off not knowing what those reasons were. Some nefarious acts, yes, but I did not think Ichika should know more. Forcing us to abandon the title and position as male pilots were simply not matched the effort they brought out to capture us, so it was logical to assume that they were planning for something else.

Whatever those acts were, well, I had already called in the cavalry of the Japanese Special Assault Team to prevent that from happening. They were green, and very very mean… The soldiers would be the hammer, slamming down on the criminals. After that, well, the Public Security Intelligence Agency would take over. And I bet that they would be very… unhappy that some bitches just caused an international incident right on their soil.

Still, most of that was about the future. For now, though, I preferred just getting out of here.

Looking at the two downed (and tied, and gagged – but one should not ask how I actually did all of that. I blamed Major for perverting my mind) guards for the last time, I made sure that there was nothing left of use to them. Both of their blades had been taken, along with the sheaths/holsters and the phones. All measures had been taken to ensure that they could not immediately become a threat to our escape attempt. I made sure about that.

The door was opened slightly, and luckily without noise. It was just a small gap at first, simply storming out was a bit risky after all. Luckily, through this gap, I saw none of the hostile force, and after opening the door to check the other side, there was also none to be seen. Lucky. Having more hostile was always a bad thing, a well-trained and elite trooper or not, even a Commando shied away from fighting against multiple enemies.

Now, with the immediate coast being clear, it was time for me to find the path leading to safety. Luckily, I remember the basic layout of the building. The staircase leading up above would be on my left… About two dozen steps or so.

“One. Zed. The coast is clear, moving to the central staircase. Over.”  
“Zed. One. Check.”

Thanks to a headphone and the line still being open, I was able to report to the SAT team “Zodiac” while still holding two knives at the same time. For a special force team, communication was extremely important, so I kept the phone call open. It would burn through my credit fairly quickly, but I had already top it up heavily so this should not be a trouble. Besides, I could ask for compensation from the Japanese government after this, so who cared?

I turned back and signalled for Ichika to come. Seeing my wordless gesture, the Japanese boy quickly complied. At least he understood the value of stealth. Well, getting out of the room was the easy part, but getting out of the building was hard. I gritted my teeth and started walking briskly towards the central staircase. As I said, these bitches made a grave error in not putting a bag over my head. Remember the path to the room was a piece of cake for me.

Two dozen steps to my left, so about fifteen meters, give or take. Around me, there was only silence. The hallway was only half-lit with sunlight coming through the windows. The dust in the air curled above the ground, paining them orange-yellow. It would look quite pretty if I was not kidnapped and kept within a half-finished building by some half-wit bitches in the first place. I hid my own snort in my throat. These bitches had zero ideas on whom they had just taken, had they?

The staircase was just as I expected: void of everyone, in both and down directions. There was not even a shadow moving within my sight. It was strange, considering that there should be about a dozen people in the building now… Maybe they were in their respective rooms at the moment? Maybe, maybe not. Still, that was not the critical subject at the moment.

“One. Zed. I’m at the staircase. No contact. Moving from third to the fourth floor now. Over.”  
“Zed. One. Copy. We are eight mikes out. Over.”  
“One. Zed. Solid copy, eight mikes. Out.”

I talked again into the headphone, though this time, I whispered. Without the confine of the four walls in the old room, my voice could be easily carried over, breaking the stealth. Therefore, I had to actively keep it low.

Take another deep breath, I raised my arms to make a guard, albeit, with knives rather than punches, I slowly walked up the stair with Ichika being a few steps behind. This was when things started getting dicey. One, this stair was a bit longer than the others, longer by half, actually. Two, instead of leading to a hallway, it simply led to a door. With walls lining up on both side, I had no idea on what was behind it. Still, the most likely conclusion was that it should lead to the roof. If not, then the highest floor.

Not optimal, but I had seen worse odds before.

“One. Zed. Complications. The stair does not lead to a hallway, it leads to a door instead. Going in now. Over.”  
“Zed. One. Copy. Be careful. Over.”

Sheathing one blade into the holster on my belt, I was slowly inching my hand on the handle. It should be a normal job, but it was not.

For all hell was breaking loose.

The door suddenly opened inward, even before I had even touched the handle. A woman was standing in the doorframe, and behind her was the “boss bitch”. Both of them were wearing matching outfits of business suits, black blazers, black skirts and white shirts. Both of the blazers were unbuttoned, revealing holstered weapons strapped to their sides. And both of them were stunned seeing me standing there.

It changed quickly, of course. A left hook and a right uppercut were immediately thrown out, crunching against the strange woman. It was harder than it sounded, really. I was only 1.6 meters, slightly below average (or in other word “short”). Meanwhile, the strange woman here is tall, must be around 1.8 – she was even taller than Ichika a bit. So, I had to use all of my tricks to extend the strike range at the expense of its power. Nevertheless, the final strike was still strong enough to daze her.

Using my left hand to grab her hair, I pushed her head down, clearing a firing lane against the “boss bitch”, who was on her way to recovering. She was moving her hand, and I assumed that she was planning to pull out her handgun. A normal boy with a blade would consider closing in for hack and slash. Me? I was not a normal boy, so I simply flipped the blade in my right hand over, grabbed the business end and then threw it away.

The blade spun and arced before finally plunged into her stomach. A yell from her told me that I was already succeeded in my attack, she quickly collapsed on the ground, holding the wound. I tore my eyes away from her though, I was tangling with another fight, and dividing my attention was always a bad idea. I must finish off this strange woman quickly, and even if a knee in the face was painful, it was not enough to bring someone down. So I kneed her again, this time to her face. Her nose might get broken, probably…

Of course, the fight was not over, yet. My elbows quickly followed, slamming on her back and neck. They were not aimed to break any bones, rather, I was just hoping for some internal damage. It was hard to fight when one’s lung and heart were burning and in great pain. Just a little struggle more, the strange woman went rigid. She did not die, of course. Her body was just too strained to put up any further effective fighting. The moment I let my left hand go, she collapsed right on my feet.

Behind her, the “boss bitch” was clutching the blade plunged into her stomach. So she had not removed that yet… Smart. Pulling the blade out might be even more dangerous, the reason for that was simple. The blade was actually filling the gap of the wound, removing it meant that there would be nothing left there to stop the blood. The danger of death due to blood loss would be real. She was neutralized then, not many people were strong (and crazy) enough to fight with a knife stabbed in his stomach.

So, both hostile were taken down within thirty seconds. Not too shabby if I must say, especially when I heard no other commotion. The fight here had not attracted any attention from any other bitches, which was a real relief. I hated fighting and killing any more – at least for the rest of the day. Now, the door was secured, I simply had to step in and hold there, waiting for rescue.

Bending down, I grabbed the strange woman’s collar and dragged her inside. My eyes scanned around, and I quickly noticed four things. One, this room was actually powered, sure, with a battery, but still “being powered”. There were lights on the ceiling, and there were a few other electronic items within the room. Two, there was no further stair leading to the roof, so moving there was not plausible for Ichika. Three, there was a balcony, a fairly large one at that. It was not enough to land a chopper in, but it was enough for four or five guys standing there without feeling crowded. And four, well, this whole kidnapping fiasco here was bigger than I originally thought.

“One. Zed… Room secured. No route to the roof, so I’m holding here. Two hostile down, one needs urgent medivac… And we have complications. Big one. Over.”  
“Zed. One. Clarify complications. Over.”  
“One. Zed. We have another VIP, Sarashiki Kanzashi. Repeat. Sarashiki Kanzashi is also kidnapped along with us. Oh, and the kidnappers were probably sending demands to her family when I stormed in. Over.”  
“… Zed. One. Hold fast. ETA six mike. Over.”  
“One. Zed. Six mikes. Copy. Over.”

Yeah. This whole fiasco was getting really complicated. Sitting in a corner (and being tied to a chair) is Sarashiki Kanzashi, second daughter of Sarashiki Akari. The lady herself was the current head of Sarashiki Incorporation, a leading company within the technology derived from the Infinite Stratos suits within Japan. She was also a former Cadet Representative for Russia (something about a trade deal, I was told), a certified Ace (she had over 20 victories in IS tournaments), and if words down on the vine were right, her husband was a former Spetnaz.

Not just “a Spetnaz” (even if that term was more than capable of evoking fear and dread), but an “Alfa Group Spetnaz”, the best of the Russian best. Nothing else was known about this marriage, and that had spoken much about the prowess of the Sarashiki elders.

I was half pitying the ones stupid enough to kidnap their daughter, and half dreading about the fact that they were actually able to pull that off. No one fuck with a Russian citizen (or “Russian minority”) and got away in one piece.

I turned toward the TV, where both of them were shown, and I had to admit, if I did not clear the situation immediately, I would also be on the shit list.

“Good morning ma’am, sir. My name is Nguyen Quang Anh, Commando Officer cadet, IS pilot from Vietnam. I was also kidnapped and put on the same site as your daughter. Reinforcement is inbound and I promise that your daughter would be home safely within a few hours.”

They eyed me critically through the camera (there was on integrated within the TV itself, I saw it already). The angle might be a bit off, but it was no doubt that they had seen me taken down these kidnappers. It was never a good idea to have the first impression on a girl’s parents with blood and gore… I willingly pushed down that line of thought. Sure, the girl was cute, small, slim, cosy with short and soft blue hair, a warm red-brown pair of eyes, and a form-fitting uniform… but she was not that cute.

Still, I was not standing for a response from the elders. Their daughter was still being tied and gagged, and there were still handguns on the two women. Both were Glocks, Glock-43, solid handgun for self-defence purpose. The easy movements of the sliders suggested that they were well-maintained. And the ammunition, six in the magazine, plus one in the chamber, which gave me 14 rounds in total. Oh, and there was an extra magazine for each bitch, so I would have 28 rounds to shoot, more than enough to win the fight here. Still, there was one problem with this setup.

“One. Zed. Be advised. The two recent downed tangos have military-grade weaponry. Handgun and some ammunition so far. But please be advised. Over.”  
“Zed. One. Copy that. How about the kidnapped? Over.”  
“One. Zed. Shaken but not stirred. The boy is not hyperventilating at the moment, and the girl is still being tied. Moving on her now. Over.”  
“Zed. One. Copy. Over.”

It was lucky that I removed the guns first because when I was kneeling next to the girl to untie Kanzashi from the chair, the door behind my back suddenly opened. A woman stepped in, asking something in Japanese. She quickly stopped the moment she saw two of her leaders collapsing and bleeding on the floor. The next thing she was the click of the confiscated handgun.

“Ichika, translate this into Japanese for me. She can either surrender here, or she will get out here in a body bag.”

The woman, on the other hand, did not need the translation. She simply drew out her blade and advanced menacingly at me. I had said this before, but I thought that it needed to be repeated. These bitches were completely incompetent. They completely ignored the threat of a gun, and well, they were bringing a knife to a gunfight.

Two shots rang out, pinning the woman on her chest. She immediately collapsed on the ground.

Whatever stealth I had left before, I had none now.

The girl behind me let out a surprised yell, Ichika turned completely white, and the Sarashiki elders were staring at me with eyes wide.

“Zed. One. I hear gunfire! Sitrep! Over.”

The team leader of the SAT was agitated; I could hear that in his voice. But he was able to school it down, fitting someone of his rank and status.

“One. Zed. Hostile came in the room. Refuse to stand down and surrender. I double tap her with the guns taken from the last two before her…”

Keep the gun trained on the opened door, I arrived by the new woman’s side and check her pulse. There was still some of that, her heart was still beating, her chest was still rising and falling – even if barely. She was alive, for now.

“She’s not dead, not yet. Without hospitalization though, she would expire in two hours, top. Over.”  
“Zed. One. Roger. We are three mikes out. Do not kill anyone else, we need people alive for interrogation. Do you copy? Over.”  
“One. Zed. Copy. No killing. I will aim for non-vital parts then. Over.”

Engage the safety on the gun, I holstered it on my belt before kindly asking Ichika to press his coat on this woman’s wound. As the SAT team leader had said it, the Japanese wanted alive tounges to speak, so I needed to try my best to keep them from expiring. Having them gone here was… well, not preferable. While Ichika was frantically pushing his hands on her breasts, I was walking back to Kanzashi and finished untying her. The girl then slowly stood up, caressing her bounded wrist. She looked to be in some mild discomfort, which was totally understanding. No one enjoyed being kidnapped in the first place.

“Miss Sarashiki, are you alright?”  
“I’m alright.”

I found this… concerning. Her voice was cold, void of all emotion. Just like me. And that was definitely not a good way to say. I just took down three full-size adults in cold blood and not even bat an eye at that. She seemed to be suffering from apathy, or at least she was closing off all of her emotion. It would be dangerous, as I had seen and done it myself…

“Just… be careful.”  
“I will.”

However, to solve that problem, I needed time and a psychiatrist, both of which was not available for me at the moment. I stood guard with the gun pointing at the door. Both Ichika and Kanzashi were shuffled into a corner, out of the direct line of sight. If the kidnappers wanted to get any of us, they would have to pass through me first. And well, getting pass me was full trouble by itself.

My eyes kept staring at the open door, ignoring the increasingly burning sensation on my eyeballs. Being in the business, I knew it well, just a blink of an eye was more than enough to suffer a critical blow. Also, I was outnumbered, out-manoeuvred and possibly out-gunned. The only way out of here was through the balcony, or rather, through the balcony and by the SAT’s chopper. They were still a few minutes away, and therefore, I must hold this line. A few minutes may sound short, but as I had said above, much could still happen, and the only way to prevent that was vigilance.

Luckily, I quickly heard the distinct sound of the chopper’s motor, and then the radio message from team Zodiac quickly put me at ease:

“Zed. One. We have arrived. We saw your position already. Prep for entry through the window. Over.”

The cavalry was here. I breathed out slowly, satisfying and content that the support had finally arrived. Sure, if I went full-blown, I could probably secure the whole building, but the lives of the civilians would be at risk. Now, with the SAT on the scene, both jobs could be done at the same time without any compromise. Heck, they could also accomplish the third job of keeping the kidnappers alive and in one piece

Half a minute later, I heard the sound of windows being broken, followed by the “THUD” of boots landing on concrete. Five seconds later, someone slapped on my shoulder, signalling me that I could switch task, and in the same time, both of my flanks were filled with men in black suits with guns pointing at the door. Turning around, I faced a mask hid under a helmet. This guy was quite tall, considering that my head barely reached his shoulder.

“One, I presume?”  
“Yes, and you must be Zed. I think you are taller.”

My eyebrow twitched. The list of things that made me tick was short, but being called “short” was at the very top. At least, I only felt annoyed, not pissed off or angry like some tsundere girls in animes.

“Five of my kidnappers think so, and five had already bitten the dust.”  
“Fair enough.”  
“So, how’s the plan?”

He yelled out something in Japanese, and six men in black cladded suits stepped through the door – and from the sound of that, they were going downstairs. Two more were tending to the injuries of the kidnappers (the ones I shot and threw the blade against, mostly), and the last one (sans the man himself) was checking on my fellow kidnapped.

“Simple, you travel with the kids back to Camp Meguro. You three would have a medical check-up and debrief there. All request should be made with the local commander.”  
“Understood… How about my captured weapons?”  
“Hand them in at the camp.”  
“Understood. I owe you guys a drink.”  
“Hmh?”  
“I call for you guys as rescue party after all. Buying a drink is simply a professional courtesy.”

I was pretty sure “One” was smiling under his mask, as well as other members of his team were also surprised. It was probably a pleasant one.

“If you insist.”

I nodded at that reply and ended the conversation, which allowed him to call in the chopper down to align with the balcony. The wind flushed into the room, throwing up dust, dirt and all kind of debris. Only Ichika and Kanzashi suffered from that though. All other people were military personnel, so we hardly blinked at this.

Another yell from him and last medic of the team pulled both Japanese teenagers towards the chopper, or rather the balcony. The group was closely followed behind by me truly. The street here was quite narrow, which limited the ability of the chopper to land or hover. Therefore, the SAT had no other option but to rappel. In other words, they would hook us with a line, then pull us up into the chopper.

Easy, right?

“1000 yen that the girl would scream.”  
“Aren’t betting against regulation?”  
“Yes.”

Ah, soldier’s humour here. We loved to find humour even in the direst situation, or rather, especially during dire situations to blow off some steam. Apparently, this team knew of my status as a Commando Officer cadet (which basically meant a Commando trainee) already. Because only a soldier would be crazy enough to crack a joke with another soldier. Of course, the civilians could barely understand that, illustrated by the big eyes staring at us in surprise.

“Double that number, but for the boy.”  
“Deal.”

Ichika looked at me with disbelief. Sorry boy, you doubted my ability to protect, so I simply diss you back. I simply grinned back.

“You want the boy. I go with the girl.”  
“Dafug man?”  
“I’m buying drinks for you guys tonight anyway.”  
“You have been trained?”  
“Yeah. Para-drop, rappel down and up, even climbing stairs once or twice.”  
“Enough credentials, I guess. Suit the girl up with the harness then.”

It was right in time too, two rappel lines were dropped down, both came with a double harness suit. The unnamed soldier and I quickly took one set each and then quickly secured on ourselves. Of course, we also checked the status of the other sure. If there was a hook, it must be connecting to something, if there was a knot, it must be secured. So on and so one.

The soldier picked up the second set and pulled Ichika in. Meanwhile, I did the same for Kanzashi. To be completely honest, there was a… hidden reason why I wanted to rappel with Kanzashi and not Ichika. First, rappelling with Ichika would lead to a lot of jokes concerning our sexual orientation. Second, well, Kanzashi was cute.

Sure, not cute enough for me to abandon everything, but enough for me to enjoy watching. Heh, I was still in my (hormonal) teenage, after all.

Of course, I was an officer (cadet) and a gentleman. So I would never explicitly say that out loud. Rather than that I actively tried to calm her down. She was trying to keep calm – and failing. Her breathing tempo was getting out of hand, and I even noticed the flush on her face. It was completely opposite to the eerily calm appearance even during capture just a few minutes ago. To be honest, I suffered the same situation as her once. I had no problem charging against a machine gun nest, but I found it… difficult to rappel onto and out of a chopper.

“Question: Do you want to face toward me, or face away from me?”  
“… Towards you, so that if I die because of this, I will know which face to haunt during our tenure in hell.”

Snarky, and feisty. I must say, I was impressed with that. Even I was not able to muster enough courage for speaking in my first rappel, let along dissing. Being a grizzled veteran by now, though, I just smirked while securing the harnesses she wished.

And I thought I smelt something nice. A mineral scent, very pleasant. However, under the blazing wind of the chopper’s rotors, it disappeared very quickly. Pity, I would love to find out if that was actually the girl’s perfume. As I said earlier, she was cute, and I was a functional male.

“Don’t worry Kanzashi, I’m here. Everything gonna be alright.”  
“How can I be assured that I’m not gonna fall off?”

She was getting flushed… probably agitate from the fear of falling. It was much better than me during the first rappel… again.

“Because if you fall off, I would fall off with you too?”

She just huffed and puffed then turned sideways. If I did not know better, I would say this was a classic tsundere act. Now, both sets of harness had been secured, hers on mine, and mine on the rappel line. For safety reasons, I also secured her harness on the rappel line. While I had the confidence that the hook would work, it cost me nothing to be extra careful.

With that done, I raised a thumb towards the chopper, signalling the onboard operator to roll us up. Then, while our feet were off the ground and we were still airborne, a freak wind came, pushing us sideways slightly. That scared Kanzashi off, a lot. She suddenly pulled her arms over me, hugging me tightly.

She was scared, really really scared. Frightened, even. I had no idea what to do. So I did what my mind told me. I put one arm over her back, and then I simply pat her.

“Don’t worry, I’m here. Everything gonna be alright.”

She did not loosen her hold, but at least she had already stopped shaking. Baby steps right? One could not ask for immediate giant improvement after all. Well, the rappelling process ended very quickly, barely a minute in total. When we reached the door of the chopper, we were pulled in and we quickly broke away from each other. I had to steel my own mind to not show any hesitation.

Sure, I was a functional boy, but I was also a Commando Officer Cadet. There were standards! Besides, I just met her a few minutes ago, there was no way she would fall for me, a complete stranger with the potential of being… pervert. Not to mention that she came from a noble and rich family when I had nothing left but my skills and my commitment to Motherland. I did not even think that she would consider me as a “pretty boy”, let alone a crush or a potential romantic partner.

Sighing out, I check the seat arrangement… and there were only two seats left for me. However, both of them are next to Kanzashi. I glanced to the other side, and everyone, I meant everyone, from the pilot to Ichika was grinning evilly.

Those motherfuckers.

Biting down my blush, I sat down next to her, just in time for me to receive a helmet from the SAT soldier. So, I noticed two things, one, he would escort us back to the Camp, which explained why he was not down there fighting with his team, and two, well, these motherfuckers were definitely pranking me.

“Two things, Zed. One, Ichika here actually screams like a girl. Two, I hoped you enjoy the view.”

Amidst my quiet groan, the chopper gradually set off towards JSGDF Camp Meguro. I slowly exhaled to calm down my heart. Mission accomplished then.


	4. Chapter 4

I hated paperwork. Combined that with my job as a Commando operating on foreign soil, and the debacle yesterday, I would say that I just fucking hate paperwork. First, the after-action report had to be written in both my mother tongue (Vietnamese) and English. The two versions were then checked for errors and mistakes, and because there were a few of them, I had to re-write both from the very beginning.

Then, I had a face-to-face debriefing with Japanese intelligence personnel. Each and every detail was brought up for scrutiny. They might look away from the part where I was a Commando, but they really did not enjoy the part where I kicked a lot of arses on their own soil without their explicit blessing and approval. Well, I did send two of them into intensive care after all… Then, I had to fill in ever more report form. Every form had to be filled in triplicate, and two countries were breathing down on my neck, so it was filling the same shit for six times. My hand almost broke after filling in the report, my mind was fuzzy and tiring after a series of debriefing.

I was completely drained after the whole ordeal. Sure, I had no problem staying awake for over 48 hours (okay, that was a lie, it was quite tiring, but still doable), but I would find it extremely problematic to repeat such a bureaucracy work again. My hands were cramped, my eyes were burning, and my stomach was grumbling by the end of it. Not a good memory at all.

At least on the bright side, I was able to secure some good stuff. Being kidnapped on foreign soil was a good reason to ask for… compensation. Not exactly sure how Home did that, but the Japanese government gave me quite a few. Firstly, I was allowed to carry arms into the IS Academy. Of course, all of those must be registered to the school (though the precise details could be kept secret), and I was not allowed to actually “openly carry” them into class (which I had no intention of doing so in the first place). The sweetest part was that I could have “concealed carry” even if I was in class. Sure, openly discharging them without a valid reason would mean the whole machinery of Japanese defence force gunning for my life… More reason for me to be responsible for the whole issue.

Secondly, the mistake of my IS suit was remedied. Now, I could bring it with me anytime, anywhere (even when I was travelling). Sure, I still had to declare it whenever I stepped through the security at the airport, but it was expected in the first place.

Thirdly, well, there was always hush money. Not much, but when I was considering the “strategical” level, anything below one million USD mark was “not much”. Still, fifty grand was more than enough to cover me from now until graduation from the Academy. I did not have to pay the tuition fee, and in fact, all of the basic cost of me being here had been covered by Home already. So, I simply had $50000 to burn on stuff. I had always been dreaming about visiting Akihabara. Hope the English of the maid cafes there was good enough, for my Japanese was crap after all.

Anyhow, the most important part of the deal was that I was armed for most possible situations. Most, of course. I would have troubles assaulting a fortified position or breaching into a room, but for “shooting” part only, there would be no trouble. While explosives and heavy weaponry were not accepted, all hand-held weapons (ones that could be used comfortably by a single soldier) were open for my selection, including assault rifles and DMR.

Not that I mind, of course, I just loved guns. And when the guns came straight from the SpecOp’s armoury and paid at the expense of the Japanese government? Oh, yes, please!

SIG Sauer P420, improved version of the P320, and the compact version P450. Both of them used 9x19mm Parabellum ammunition. Recontoured grips. Flared magwell for easier reloading. Custom muzzle to increase barrel longevity. Suppressors and muzzle flashes were also available, just in case I needed to be… stealthy.

AKS-25u, carbine version of the AK-25, using the same 5.45x39mm rounds, standard armour penetration from the factory setting. Ambidextrous charging handle, allowing smooth and quick reloads. Customised muzzle flash helped to mitigate the recoil and the actual flashes of the gunshots. Picatinny rail came attached on the block, currently attached with a holographic sight, 1.6 magnification. Quite a choice when I needed to make my defence personal.

For longer range, I was given the AK-305, the full-length, export, and 7.62x39mm variant of the baseline AK-25. Skeletonised stock came with shoulder pad and chin rest, fit for light-weight and accurate DMR. High endurance, high modularity, with 420mm barrel length, 950mm total length, 3.5kg in weight. Compensated with an ion-bonded bolt carrier. Hybrid sight with 4x32 ACOG and 1.5x Holographic. The textured grip on the handle, should my hand… get wet.

Last but not least, dessert. Or should I say CQC weaponry? The finest cutlery. All freshly stowed, from Austria, Germany, USA and Russian. I picked a few of them, a Ka-Bar of the USMC, a Russian multi-tool NS-2 and a Karatel.

One may feel discomfort when I was inspecting those guns, and they could even say that I was quite… giddy when I picked up the weapons. OK, to be honest, I giggled like a school girl when I picked up and tried those guns out. Some might say that such… enthusiasm might not be totally healthy, suggesting some issue in my mental health. Well, I was guilty as charged. I liked my guns after all. 

Of course, things went without saying that those guns must be secured. Considering that I was on foreign soil, I had no choice but to follow the host’s words. Home had made it clear for me. The debacle yesterday was able to help me in retaining weapons, but it was up to me to make sure that those guns stayed in my lockers. Easy for them to say, they got like a crap ton of compensation technology. Something about keeping everything under wrap. Not that I minded, of course. Having everything publicized was anathema to Commando, and if the whole story was put on newspaper, I would have to answer a lot of questions, including the ones that buried under black marks and red tapes.

Annoying…

Still, if it meant I could reach the train station of the IS Academy without being molested, I would do so. So far, there was no molest, but there was definitely a lot of staring. After all, among the whole sea of estrogen, I was the one with the highest concentration of testosterone. Furthermore, while all of those chicks were wearing the white uniforms of the IS Academy (albeit with a lot of customization), I was the only one wearing a military’s service dress uniform. It was a dark green, long-sleeved shirt with a pair of matching colour pants. Plain red insignias surrounded by the gold borders on my shoulder denoting my “rank” as an officer cadet, and the ones on my lapels telling the ones knowing it that I was a Commando in training.

Yeah, I blamed the kidnappers on breaking and burning ALL of my stuff. Without immediate replacement, I had to make do with my military uniform. Normally, girls would swarm guys like me (that should be understood with both positive and negative connotations), but with on gun holster under my left shoulder, not many were crazy enough to approach me.

Well, “not many” meant there was a non-zero chance for that to happen.

“Sorry for asking, but are you Nguyen Quang Anh?”

I turned to the side, and the first thing I noticed was a short light blue hair and a pair of red eyes. She was quite tall, 1.7m minimum, with a customized set of Academy uniform. A white shirt and an orange-yellow tie were covered by a light yellow sleeveless blazer… Now with a closer look, I would say that that “white shirt” was also double as a skirt, one that reached mid-thigh of this beauty. And to finalize the whole picture, she was wearing a pair of brown-red stockings.

Normally, I would call her a beauty, but her mischievous smile made me re-think my option. That smile on a porcelain face told me that she knew much more than I did, and I would incline to agree. I knew that among the 500+ students of the Academy, there was only one match.

“Good morning, Miss Sarashiki, or should I call you Madam President of the Student Council.”

Besides, she was the best pilot of the Academy. I could take her in a non-IS situation, but I really did not want to test that. Besides, the politeness could help me reach much further.

“Ara ara, aren’t you polite?”  
“As my Commanding officer has said, be polite and be professional, it would help me to go further.”  
“Good advice.”  
“Aye.”

We were just trading small talk so far, but why was she hiding her smile under the fan… and what was written on it, by the way? I had complete zero knowledge in Japanese calligraphy.

Some girls around were getting antsy. Either because I was talking casually with the Prez, or I was a boy in a military uniform and carrying a weapon.

“For your question, you can call me Tatenashi. You save my sister, you earn that, at least.”  
“Then feel free to call me Quang Anh.”

This was where the Vietnamese and Japanese culture diverse despite sharing many elements of the Sinosphere. We Vietnamese considered calling each other by given names as relatively normal, but the Japanese did not think so. In fact, I was pretty sure that even classmates after a few years studying together may still call each other by surname, plus the correct honorific.

So, in short, the part where the President of the Student Council allowed me to call her by her first name was… quite tremendous, I would say. The gasps of a few passersby were perhaps proof of this.

“I must say it again, thank you for saving my sister.”  
“Don’t fret, I was just doing my job. I have sworn an oath to protect the civilians, granted, it is originally to protect my people, but there is no such explicit saying, so ya know, we can probably stretch the words a bit.”  
“My my, aren’t you the cunning one.”  
“Speaking of your sister, is she alright? Being kidnapped, and then having her ransom being broadcasted right in front of her face, was… quite an experience.”  
“…”

Was that I or the girl’s aura had just shifted a bit?

“She was taking it well. Or at least, well enough considering the situations. Speaking of her, well, here she was.”  
=================  
Less than an hour in the Academy, and I was considering putting the President on my shit list.

Oh, one should not take it wrong, she was pleasant enough… right until she asked me to escort her sister to the dorm, and then the classroom. If there was an obvious attempt of an older sibling to play match-making with a younger one, there would be nothing worse than this. I had to resist the urge to facepalm, especially when I heard the maniac laughter from where the President just disappeared. Besides, we were still saddled with our own belongings, ones that she had also conveniently asked me to help Kanzashi with.

“Ain’t she a handful?”  
“She… could be worse.”  
“Of that, I have no doubt.”

Well, here we were, two freaking kids with emotional problems standing in front of the gate of the Academy main hall. One was a Commando, who had already learnt how to hide his own emotions via both training and experience. The other, well, there was no trace of emotion on her face. Though looking at her bawled fist and clenched jaw, I would say that she was either angry or annoyed.

Apparently, she was also adept at hiding her emotion, but that was the issue. Someone like her should have everything in the world. She was the second-in-line for the Chairman position of the Sarashiki incorporation, one that accounted for nearly 10% of GDP value of the whole of Japan. It was a company focused on IS tech, but it had been able to expand into various fields. Last I checked (read: the intel was forced down on my throat, then I get quizzed on), they had at least ten sub-companies, ranging from agriculture to energy sectors.

So, with such a prestigious background, she should have everything taken care for her. She would have the best healthcare plan (including insurance for her teeth and eyes, which were normally very expensive and only present in a premium package). The best school and tutors would be available to her, heck, I would not be too surprised if this was the first school she had ever been to, too busy coping with highly professional tutors and all that. For some princesses like her, I would say that she had everything in the world.

Unlike me…

Still, no time to dwell. The class was starting soon, and like it or not, I still had to be gallant.

“What are you doing?”

Still, that emotionless voice, though I was pretty sure that she was not a “kuudere” or something like that. A kuudere would still care, she was just hiding her own emotion behind a mask. She would still explicitly say that she loved you out loud, albeit with a stone-cold face – but I guess that was a part of the charm. However, Kanzashi here seemed to have zero care about anything. And that was what worried me. Damn it, I was a grunt, I pointed and shot, and this situation needed a shrink.

Tsk. Troublesome.

“Helping you out. I’m still a man, and it is simply politeness that we help out girls and women. The polite ones at least.”  
“But I don’t need your help.”  
“Are you sure? Each of your suitcases is 30kg, minimum. It would be hard for a delicate lady like you to move them to the dorm and then come back in time for class.”  
“How about you? That suitcase must be 25kg, and if you carry my load, the net weight is more than triple.”  
“It is only 15kg, I don’t have much. And yes, the total amount of work will increase. Yes, I know how to deal with that. Yes, I can deal with that. Now, please, would you mind me giving a hand?”

What worse than an emotionless girl? An emotionless girl that was both emotionless and stubbornness. Coming from someone whose job was Special operation, that was something to consider.

We were just standing there, eyeing each other. Black stared into red. The eyes of a young soldier met the eyes of a cold heiress. In the end, the girl relented, she blinked first and had no choice but to accept my help. Of course, she was still grumbling something about heavy suitcases. To be fair, they were heavy… but that was nothing compared to my training. Just a few re-arrangement, stacking the suitcases on top of each other, and they became much easier to move.

Heck, it was easy enough for Kanzashi to move by herself. Even going upstairs was made easy thanks to the elevators. She simply needed to push the stack of suitcases, and they would move along. A lazy arse would stop there and leave things for the girl to do. However, I was not lazy, and I had already made a promise, so I saw this to the end.

Kanzashi seemed displeased with this, but she kept her opinion to herself. Fine for me… Well, a bit. The silence between us was a bit awkward. She seemed to… hate my gut somehow. And despite my outward calm appearance, I was freaking out from the inside.

It was just… HOLY FUCKING SHIT! School had barely started and someone had already hated me. Worse, I had no idea why. And worse still, I had no idea how to find the answer to that question. My speciality was combat, primary as a marksman and secondary as a demolition expert. There was little… the knowledge inside me for infiltration or even seduction. Heck, I could not even flirt even if I wanted to save my life. My experience on the opposite sex with regards to romance was practically zero.

I had to pay extra attention to my breathing tempo, it would be embarrassing if I lost my calm here, especially if Kanzashi discerned it as “for no reason”. To think fast, I needed to be cold, calm and collected first. Rushing ahead with adrenaline and testosterone would be… counterproductive.

Still, the point remained: Did Kanzashi hate me? I mean… I saved her from the kidnappers, yes? But I was very brutal at that, sending two to direct intensive care unit. Heck, and I was no even apologize for that… yet. Yeah, I thought I should apologize for that. Late was better than never.

“And… Uhm… Miss Sarashiki?”  
“Call me Sarashiki-san, please. We are in Japan here.”

And she was half-Japanese, half-Russian. Well, when in Rome, did it like Roman.

“Fine, Sarashiki-san, are you ok with the… issue yesterday?”  
“You mean the kidnapping?”  
“Yeah.”  
“… I’m fine, don’t worry.”  
“Are you sure?”  
“Yes, I’m pretty sure, I knew my own thinking!”

She raised her voice a bit at the end. Not much, but it was enough for me… Sure, I knew she was not being totally truthful. I really wanted to know more, but it was not my place. I only met her yesterday, and the situation was not optimal. Maybe if I knew her longer, I would be able to do so. But until then, we would be simply acquaintance at best.

I was getting nervous here. I meant… I had never spoken with a girl face-to-face for this long. It was quite nerve-wracking, and I had no idea what to say. Sure, I wanted to apologise her for being a bit too brutal… or I got way overboard when I was rescuing her yesterday… But I had no idea how to do so. Well, not in a flowery way. The blunt way was easy, but it was not really fit for talking with girls. We walked for a few more minutes, which I used to think over. The more I thought though, the fewer options I found. I was completely lacking in the flowery and flattery department, so I had no option other than being blunt and direct.

“Uhm… Sarashiki-san?”  
“Yes?”  
“About the kidnapping, I would like to apologise.”

She seemed to be surprised there, she just stopped, arching her eyebrows while staring at me. Well, it took me a few seconds to notice that. When I turned around, I noticed her glimmering red eyes, they were staring at me with quite an intensity. I had no idea what it meant, to be honest. I was not a specialist in seduction after all.

“What’s wrong?”  
“You are apologizing?”  
“I went overboard with them. Or rather, I went overboard with them with you seeing the whole debacle.”  
“Is that something worth apologizing for?”

Now I was getting a bit worried. A normal civilian should feel troubled at the sight of blood and gore, considering that they had never seen that before. However, Kanzashi was really calm taking that, or perhaps too calm. There were only two categories of people capable of doing so: the grizzled ones, and the ones with apathy. I was the first group, and I had no reason to think that she had prior training and combat experience. Her body and eyes lacked the steel and bloodthirst usually found in veterans…. Therefore, I believed that she was suffering from apathy, a lack of interest from… well, everything.

“Don’t fret, Nguyen-kun. When I say it’s alright, it is alright.”

Easy for you to say so, girl. You did not know the danger of apathy, I almost turned into a bloodthirsty, no-remorse killer because of that. It took a crap ton of therapy and medicine to bring me out of that hell hole. Concealing emotion was fine and dandy, but sticking to it too long, the mask would become yourself. You would become someone with no emotion, while it was somewhat okay for analysis, it would be batshit insane.

I really wanted to pry in, I would love to help her. But then, I had no idea how to do so. As I said a few times already, my speciality was combat, not small-talk. I would have troubles (like a lot of them) initiating a conversation without pissing her off. Heck, it was pretty much a guarantee that I would accidently make her mad if I tried to be a shrink here.

Furthermore, all of that talk could only work if she wanted to be helped in the first place. If she genuinely believed that she was alright, and/or she refused help, that would not work. Personal experience, trust me. I took consistency from the shrink and more important, a direct order from the Major, to somewhat open up and take the therapy a bit more seriously.

Seeing no other option, I kept my silence. After all, if Kanzashi had said she was alright, it should be alright, right?

We kept walking in silence, running out of ideas to talk. Apparently, both of us had issues in this manner. Small talk and actual heart to heart conversation were something completely out of my league. Normally, I would only focus on my strengths and avoid my weaknesses. In other words, give me the order to hit on someone, order me to fight my way out of a pinch, ask me to solve some STEM problems, order, quiz me on history events… but please, by the ancestors, one should not ask me to flirt or make small talks.

Yeah, and to think this was just the first day at the Academy. I had yet to get into class properly, and I had a case of mental issue on my hands already. I was powerless in this, having no idea how to fix it… and no authority to actually attempt it. Life sucked. What gonna came next? A princess got too high on her own self-importance?

Knowing my luck, I preferred a bunch of (incompetent but highly zealous) terrorist storming into the Academy. At least, with these, I had a good and valid reason to kill them all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story starts to align with the canon-anime, and the first challenge appears

Class 1-1 was, surprisingly, a tame affair. It was compared to the raging fire of my baptism, or the hellish training as a Commando. The first saw casualty in the thousands within a single day (90% of which was civilian), and the second had a net 50% survival rate. So… yeah. I had already seen two broken environments, so a new area filled with estrogen should not inconvenient me… much.

"Should" was the keyword here. For the moment I walked in, all eyes were upon me. To be fair, I was wearing a green military service uniform, being armed, and I was the epitome of being deadly serious. The annoyance and concern from the previous conversation (or lack thereof) with Kanzashi added in some specks of darkness there. My face was not with a scowl, but it was easy to see the hard stone was etched there. That was the face of someone without a single fuck left to give… Or at least, that was what I hoped.

Then, the interrogation began in earnest. Most of the girls instantly swarmed over me when I sat down on my seat, bombarding me with questions. Normally, I would be glad that I became the attention of many cute girls like this, but this was anything but normal. A Commando could not be classified as a “normie” after all, and that was before the fact that I was actually carrying a loaded firearm into the class… Well, two loaded firearms actually. My back-up was tugged into my sock, hidden from view thanks to my pants. And then, to top it off, I was the first male IS pilot of the world, and I was the only confirmed IS-killer on the world. To be curious would be an understatement to describe these girls. They were goddamned inquisitive, especially about the fiasco yesterday.

Clearly, I could not satisfy them with the bare-bone details. They wanted more, they needed to hear the juicy details, and they did not take “no” for an answer. Some of them even pressed onto me, using the feminine charm to their benefits. The scent of perfume, the smell of fresh shampoo, the elegant and smooth faces, the soft and firm body behind the cloth… All of them were mixing together into one hell of a concert. I was also pretty sure that there was a girl (or two) having a few buttons on their shirt undone. And on them, I got a glimpse of something coloured under the white fabric of the uniforms. Fuck, I thought the torture resistant training was terrible, this was even worse. It was lucky for me that no girl was attempting the ultimate trick: sitting on my lap. She would instantly know something was, well, excited.

Major had said that an excited boy would have a very loose lip.

I almost reached the breaking point and purring like a cat being please, the sensation here was literally overwhelming. Heck, hormones were running amok in my system, and if those girls ramped up their effort a bit, they would beat me.

Luckily, I was saved by a highly surprising figure: Orimura Ichika. As soon as the door opened, everyone turned towards him, and the poor bastard was like a deer caught in the headlight. His head jerked up with fear evident on his face, and it turned into terror the moment I got a toothy grin.

“Due to my occupation, I had a lot of non-disclosure agreements. But Mr Orimura over there is just a civilian, so he doesn’t have to keep it quiet as I do. Why don’t you girls ask him?”

Sure, I was shifting the target from myself to the boy, but seriously, I thought he could use a bit of feminine attention. Besides, he should get used to that, with 500+ female students here, there would be more than 250 students (on average) gunning for either him or me. Without a strong mental shield and/or inoculation, he would fall fairly quickly.

I had no idea what the teacher, (Miss) Orimura Chifuyu, would say if her brother got caught in a honey trap. That would be… bloody, I thought. Well, it would not be my blood, so I paid it no attention. Besides, there was a betting pool back in Home, and the money was good, really good.

With a much lesser pressure, I was able to calm my mind down a bit. Sure, a few girls still lingered around me, pestering me for more information, but I shot them all down with obviously much less effort. With the edge in quantity gone, my mind with the baptism in fire and the hellish training was able to mount a better resistance to those clingy girls. Now, instead of breathing heavily and trying to control my excited body parts, I simply enjoyed the whole fiasco… Well, the fiasco and the soft feeling on my arm.

I was still a growing boy with a lot of spared (and suppressed) hormones, after all.

Of course, anything good must end soon. Someone was approaching me from behind, and from the twitch of the girl on my left, it seemed that they had also noticed that.

“Excuse me, may I have a moment with you?”

It was a Caucasian girl with long smooth blond hair and crystal blue eyes. A blue bow with while frill was put upon her head. Just like many other girls, she was also wearing the white dress uniform of the Academy and a pair of black stockings. For some reason, her whole aura spelt out “princess”, or “ojou-sama” for some weeboo. I knew who she was.

Cecilia Marianna Alcott, “Cissy”, UK Cadet Representative, 16 years old, hail from a minor branch of the Royal Family with no chance for a shot at the throne. The pilot of the “Blue Tears” IS suit, one that specialized in sniping and drone attack. Intelligence suggested that she had… mental problems, something to do with a train accident when she was much younger. Well, that, and she would inherit a hereditary hedge fund of more than 50 million pounds (10% growth rate currently) when she reached the age of 18.

“Sure, no problem. How can I help you?”

She was probably expecting me to cower under her. Having 50 million pounds in your pocket and being a girl in a female supremacy society could do that to your perception. Too bad for her then, she had already forgotten a crucial fact: Vietnamese would never kneel. Well, that, and I was batshit insane.

“Oh? What kind of response is that? You should be honoured being talked to by a Cadet Representative like myself. I am talking to you, boy, so you should better show some respect!”  
“That is the polite and informal response considering we’ve just met. I think the British had better manners than this, but well, British manner is just a stereotype.”

It was stereotyping. I had done my own research (or pastime reading), and during my training, I had access to certain public (but not common) knowledge about the UK. Needless to say, it reinforced my belief: there was no “black” and “white”, there were only various shades of grey. Every country had their own skeletons, Vietnam had, the UK had – and some documents even suggested that the two countries were sharing some skeletons together. And it was not like I would make that information public, of course.

“And you are just a male! A boy even! You should listen to your better, like me!”

Immediately, anger started to spike in my own mind. What the fuck this bitch was fucking thinking? Sexism at its finest. No male specimen of the 21st century, even in the age before IS, would speak something like that aloud. We could be arrogant and narcissistic, but we knew when to close our mouths. However, after the introduction of IS suits and the rise of female supremacy, that idea did not apply anymore. Girls earned the right to openly show their disdain towards boys. Heck, the fucking Amazon Brigade was formed for that explicit duty.

I was even a victim of that myself, back during my innocence day, the sole reason was that I was a boy. Or worse, I was an academically inclined boy. I tried to fight back a few times, even going as far as dragging the teachers into the mess (which made me a “snitch” in some pupils’ eyes). However, none of that worked, I even became a worse black sheep at school. The girls sometimes used that as a valid excuse to torment me even more. It made me… bitter, cynical, and outright suicidal in certain cases. Somehow, I… felt glad that the fuckers of the international syndicate revealed themselves on that day, I was very close to actually snap off.

Now, all of those emotions were coming back. The anger, resentment, hatred… they were coming in full force. It was my shame and my own skeleton, I was bullied, I was ridiculed, and I was completely despised simply because I was a boy. Back in those days, I was no one, so I had to suffer. But now, I was a fucking Commando, and I was the first male IS pilot.

She would pay for this, preferably by digging her own grave.

“So, a girl is automatically better than a boy?”  
“Obviously, we can control IS suits, you cannot.”  
“Oh, really, but aren’t you forgetting something? There are two boys here capable of activating and piloting IS suits. Just one more confirmed case, and trust me, the whole woman-only part of the IS piloting? It would be a damned lie.”  
“Wh… What?”  
“Once is happenstance, twice is a coincidence, three times is enemy action, or at least, a pattern. If there were three confirmed male IS pilots, then the inventor of the IS suit, Shinonono Tabane has been lying about her own work for some reasons.”  
“But there are only two of you now, so my point stands! Men are not as good as women!”  
“Until I punch your light out, sweetie.”  
“You wouldn’t dare.”  
“Who dares wins. Remember that?”

By now, I had already stood up, staring straight into her face. Sure, I was shorter than her, and it made things a bit less intimidating for the blond. She may want to cow me into submission, but I was ready to kill her. The aura and the eyes of someone who had shed blood were not something one could ignore. I had already put a hand over the pistol holster (which was still secured, for now), and that was what scared the girls around me. They were probably considering putting a collar and a leash on me for fun, but they had also realized that I could take that as an affront, which I would retaliate in force.

And unlike other, I would make sure that my strike back was lethal. This was probably what made Cecilia paused. She may not know my full profile, but she probably knew that I was a Commando, a Special Operation operative, I was authorized to kill, and I would not hesitate to do so. Facing death was a good reason for one to stop and think.

The two of us could be standing there, staring into each other’s eyes forever if needed. Well, things went like that, until our teachers stepped into the room. The commotion failed to distract my eyes, but I had already known the people who were stepping through the door.

Yamada Maya, deputy homeroom teacher, age 32, former Japan IS National Representative. She was wearing a yellow dress with black trimming reaching right above her knees, and from those to the ground was a pair of knee-high black stockings. A short, dark-green hair was up top, coming together with a rimless pair of glasses. The most outstanding feature in her figure would be… her boobs. They were huge, and I was damned sure that they would burst out of her dress at any moment.

The second figure was no one other than Orimura Chifuyu, homeroom teacher, age 27, Japan IS National Representative and the predecessor of Miss Yamada. The first and only holder of two consecutive Mondo Grosso Champion title. She was serious-like, with a black blazer, black knee-length skirt and white shirt. The long smooth black hair was tied into a ponytail behind her back. I would say that she was a bombshell in her own right, especially those slender legs (ones that wearing a pair of semi-transparent black stockings).

As Major would say, these two were definitely eye-candy. Even with strict discipline, I would not mind watching them every day. Assuming that I was not stuck in any “discussions” with the girls, of course.

But why did the girls look stunned and frozen in place? They did not even react when Chifuyu slammed down her attendance book on the table.

“Listen everyone, and listen closely. My name is Orimura Chifuyu, your homeroom teacher, this is Miss Yamada Maya, my deputy. In the next three years, we will turn you into functional and beneficial IS personnel for this world. So now, please go back to your seats so that the session can begin.”

That was the cue for all hell to break loose.

“Chifuyu-sama! It’s really Chifuyu-sama!”  
“Please! Orimura-sama, I come all the way from New York to adore you!”  
“Onee-sama, I will die for your sake!”

Fucking fangirls. They were the bane of my soul and the root of all problem. The last thing I wanted to have them forming a cult around their idol. Chifuyu would be sitting upon a golden throne then, with a black, high slit, sleeveless dress, and… Actually, I would stop thinking about that now, no point working up this early in the school year.

Up there, in front of the board, Chifuyu just grunted, though I had a hunch that I would be counter-productive:

“Seriously, did they put all the idiots in my class?”

And yeah, it got backfired. Completely backfired.

“ONEE-SAMA!”  
“Please scold us more!”  
“But be elegant while doing so!”  
“And be gracious afterwards.”

FUCK. YOU. ALL.

There should be something stopping them from reaching that low. I thought shit like that was only available within the context of anime and manga. The incessant screams and yells were completely out of the blue, and the whole situation was making me reconsidering my option. Last year, when my ability to control an IS suit was confirmed, Home gave me a choice: either become a lab rat or join the armed forces and enrol in the IS Academy. Now, five minutes into the first class, being a testing specimen had become tremendously more… beneficial. At least my sanity would not be damaged.

At least, with the teachers being in the class, the girls were able to calm down and get into the mood. Both Cecilia and I stepped down from our verbal spat. We might be hotheads, but we all knew that dragging teachers into our mess was something… unacceptable. Witnesses would show that the blond British girl was the first to throw the spat, and the teachers would remember that I was the one ready to escalate the whole situation. In short, both sides would be shafted, which was not really optimal. Therefore, we simply huffed and grunted at each other before sitting back down in our seats.

And now, I was made aware of the girls, or rather, my classmates. They had already switched from being worshipping Chifuyu to leering at the “good people”, in this case, most of the girls were leering at Ichika, Chifuyu, and me. On the one hand, my ego was feeling glad that I was finally become attracted to the opposite sex. On the other hand, my self-preservation sense was getting alarmed at the part where those girls keep licking their lips while looking at me.

They were waiting for information, some juicy bit for gossips.

No doubt about that. So I had no choice but to grimaced when it was my turn:

“I’m Nguyen Quang Anh, surname Nguyen, given name Quang Anh. I’m from Vietnam, 17 years old. Currently, I’m a Junior Officer Cadet of the Vietnamese People’s Army, Commando branch. I enjoy lazing around, listen to rock music and trying out my marksmanship. Please to be your acquaintances.”

If Ichika got half of the class roused up (because he was the younger brother of the Chifu-fucking-yu), I got the whole class lit up with a glint in their eyes. After all, unlike Ichika, I got a handgun and an officer hat, and ladies loved that hat. The first to ask was a sleepy-looking girl, slim, petite and small. Her uniform was highly customized with both sleeves made way too long for someone at her size. In fact, the whole arms were covered in those sleeves.

“Yes, Miss Nohotoke?”  
“Oh, Nguyen-kun, is it true that you were kidnapped yesterday?”  
“Yes.”  
“… And?”  
“And what?”  
“Please tell us more!”  
“So what do you want to know?”  
“Who kidnapped you?”  
“Classified.”  
“Why were you kidnapped?”  
“Classified.”  
“How many kidnappers were there?”  
“Classified.”

Luckily, I knew the path of bullshitery. All I needed was to understand the questions literally and then give the answers with the barest details possible. Furthermore, the option “it is classified” was always a valid (and polite) way to say “I ain’t a snitch.”. Heck, they even asked me about my past, though I only confirmed that I was able to kill an IS pilot. Other than that, the precise details of how I did that were “classified”. It ruffed their feathers, but hey, I needed to have some aces under my sleeve after all.

The girls were starting to catch the drift, with more than ten questions unanswered due to “classified matters”. While I did not explicitly say it out loud, it was a given that military personnel like me took the secret as a very serious matter. The path was switched from the professional (namely, my history) to a more personal approach, namely…

“So… Do you have a girlfriend yet?”

It was a can of worm. No matter how I answered it, I would get shafted in the butt. So, I simply had to follow the path of the least resistance, and of the most benefits for me.

“At the moment, I don’t. And to be honest, I really love to have someone to cuddle with.”

Yeah, half of the girls in the class suddenly licked their lips and had their eyes lit up. I was not worried at all… Actually, I was. My posture was still straight, my voice was even and my face was neutral, but from the inside, I was really nervous. Using anime logic for real-life applications was… ill-advised at best. However, for a virgin with literally zero experience of flirting like me, using support from anime was still a better option than none at all. Considering I was not maimed or killed yet, things were looking quite well.

“Really? So what is your ideal girlfriend?”

Someone sane enough to keep me grounded, but also someone smart (and insane) enough to play around with me. It was not like I would say that out loud, besides, romance was never high on my list during the last 17 years of my life. Therefore… I just smirked:

“Classified.”

That would earn me the attendance book slammed down on my head, courtesy of Chifuyu. Of course, “would” was the keyword, considering that I was able to grab the book and hold it before it connected with my skull.

“I would like to remark that this would be considered as physical assault, one that I’m allowed to retaliate in any way I see fit.”  
“I know, I just want to remind you that your time for self-introduction is over. If you keep standing there and smirking, those girls would jump your bone. All at once.”  
“And I’m confident that I can handle them all.”

The whole class made an “ooh” sound… Though whether that was a good or bad reaction remained to be seen. Anyhow, I came back to my seat, which was in the middle of the class. The self-introduction session continued for a while longer, ending with the thirtieth member, a girl hailing from South Korea (and the sibling of an on-the-rise K-Pop star).

The next point on the topic was setting out the rules, including the general Academy’s rules as well as special ones laid out by Chifuyu. There was nothing too surprising there, sure, it was a bit strict (Cecilia whined about being presence 10 minutes before the bell), but overall, it was cool for me. These girls had it easy, they had no idea about the punishment that the military had been doing…

Moping the yard under the rain. Filling up an oil barrel (nearly 160 litres) with a syringe bottle. Doing push-ups with no less than ten cigarettes being packed in one’s mouth. Apologizing to “Comrade Pig” when I forgot to feed him (long story)… Good time.

So, listening to the loose regulations of the Academy, I just sat there smirking. Living here would be easy. Sure, there was no firing range here, but there were quite a few of simulation centres and arenas, which was even better because they allowed me to maintain my firearm skill in a “practical manner”. I would have to jump through a few hoops and loops… but did the President of the Student Council say something about a “debt”?

It was underhanded, yes. But then, if it worked, it was good.

And then, it came the juicy part (for the girls, at least). “Class Representative”. We had the same stuff back in Vietnam, though Class Reps there had less power and less work compared to Japan. Here, they had to do quite a lot, and it was before one remembered that this was the IS Academy.

“The Class Representative is a position of both responsibility and authority. This student would have to attend the monthly meeting of the Student Council, and they are in charge of planning their own class activities during school events. Furthermore, true to the name, or at least the English translation, this student also has to represent our class in the Inter-class tournament. In return, this student shall receive a small monthly stipend, free run on multiple Academy’s facilities, as well as a reference for any future job or education.”

The rewards were juicy, to be honest. Money was money, and it was always welcome. Free and easy access to the school facilities (and I was sure that it could help me to get past the red tapes) would give me the chance for even more IS training. The last, well, it was not that alluring to me. I would join the Military academy anyways, becoming a full-fledged Commando officer (or failing that, a staff officer). I would go full career with the VPA, and my current “job” as a Junior officer cadet was more than enough to put my name in without doing any test. Still, I would still be able to enrol in some prestigious universities if Vietnam had no more need of my martial skills (which was, seriously, my dream of peace).

“Now, I want some candidates. It does not matter if it’s yourself or some other students. I know that it is sudden, but this student would assume the mantle temporarily. After one month, we would review to see if she, or he, is worthy enough of the job.”

Fair enough. As in the terms and conditions Chifuyu put out were fair. The girls, on the other hand, were not. They went fully into the… wham mode.

"I nominate Ichika!"  
"Seconded!"  
"Third!"  
"I call for Quang Anh!"  
"Anh for Class Rep!"  
"Good idea!"  
"For the officer!"  
"For the younger brother of onee-sama!"

And then, they just had to scream at each other for five minutes straight. I swore, they were getting on my nerve. If Home had not explicitly said that these bitches must be alive, they would be dead under my own hand already. It was getting really, really noisy.

It took more than a minute for the two teachers to calm down the girls, and then ten more to record the vote and tally the result. I voted for Ichika to be the Class Rep, and the sole reason for that was simple: I hated paperwork. The hellish bureaucracy yesterday was still fresh in my mind, and I was in no rush to repeat that again. I was a grunt, point me at something and I would blow it up. But filling in forms and doing paperwork? Nah-ah.

The rewards were fine and dandy, yes, but they were not enough to win me over. I still really loved my freedom, my napping time and my guns blazing. Being a Class Rep would cut into that time, a lot of time to be honest. So I tried to stay away from it as far as possible.

But like a cruel joke on the Vietnamese blood, heaven pushed what I hated into my lap:

“Mr Orimura has 5 votes, Ms Alcott has 2, and Mr Nguyen has 23. Congratulation Quang Anh, you are now the Class Representative of Class 1-1!”

Could I change from "congratulation" to a drink please? A chilled vodka, preferably. Probably not then… Still, I still had to answer, and I really did not want to take this job. Crap.

"Miss Yamada, I don't wa..."  
"Be quiet, the one being nominated has no right to refuse, she, or he, must be prepared already."

The cold voice of Chifuyu quickly killed all of my hope to refuse the ordeal. Seriously, the last time I checked, Japan was a democratic country under a symbolic monarch… Right, I forget, “democracy” was a joke, and the Japanese society was still authoritarian. At least, I finally understood why some countries were still using a partially authoritarian system – they made sure that the only ones wanted to and had enough talent could hold the position.

"Well, I accepted the responsibility, as long as the objectives and rights are listed clearly. It was quite strange, but then the same could be said for field promotions."

And then, when the class was still surprised by my response, a shrieking voice was heard from the back of the class. I was not even sure if I should feel surprised there:

"What!? I refuse to accept this! Are you telling me that this male monkey will be my Class Representative for a full year? That is disgraceful and shameful! I am coming here to polish my IS skills, not to see and hear him playing around!"

I retracted my earlier statement. Now, I really wanted to be a Class Rep, just to spite this British bitch in the face. My anger flared up again, this girl had let the female supremacy getting to her head. A bit was alright, but this was too much, and as they said everything should be in moderation.

I was considering to persuade her peacefully, but then, Fate played a joke on me:

"Ladies, having a gook, a dink like him leading our class is the utmost shame for noblewomen like us! Do you really want a far-east sperm like him leading us?"

She was as good as dead meat now.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The retaliation and re-buff from Cecilia's racist and sexist remarks.

Some people said that when they were completely mad, they would saw nothing but red. Some stories wrote that a man consumed by wrath would lose his temporary control. All of that was lies, of course. Beating the consciousness of man was no easy task, and anger was only able to dull the civilized sense, the chivalry code of honour, or the nice and mellow attitude. For a veteran and a trained Commando like me, such sentiment was a tool, not a crutch. The razor-sharp anger gave us purpose and desire, brought us to better focus and control, and it made us highly determined to see the job done.

Now, the boiling anger insides me was demanding her immediate death. However, the wrath inside me had other ideas, one that spelt “complete destruction”. However, wrath was also accompanied by his friend sloth and caution. It was always better to give the enemy a chance to step back (so that I could kill the entire formation) than heading straight into the fire.

“Miss Alcott, I strongly advise you to retract that statement.”  
“Or what, monkey?”

She just had to say that, did she not?

I grimaced, slowly stood up and asked the two teachers. I did not even spare any effort to glance back at the British girl. For me, she was a dead bitch breathing.

“Miss Orimura, Miss Yamada, I would like to have the official confirmation and acknowledgement that Miss Alcott has just delivered a series of sexist and racist remarks.”  
“Confirmed. I’m about to reprimand her when you stepped in… And from the look of your face, I think I must do it now. My punishment would be extremely mercy compared to what you have in your mind, am I right?”  
“Depending on your definition, I was just planning to throw her out of the window.”  
“Really?”

Of course not, but it paid to be a bit of humour.

“About a dozen times, or two. Preferably three.”  
“WHAT!?”

Ah, that would be my would-be victim. Time to play hardball now.

“Miss Alcott, I sincerely advise you this. Retract your statements and your remarks, and I won’t look into them any further.”  
“Hah! Such a coward! Knowing nothing but begging. Get on your knees boy, and become my good little slave, and maybe I will consider your offer.”

An image flashed in front of my mind, but it was not me in chain… No, it was her, Cecilia Alcott in a risqué maid outfit with the frilly black skirt barely cover her butt and the white shirt was almost transparent. The girl was also collared, chained, and was made kneeling in front of me. And her eyes were full of…

Lust. Goddammit. My lust, not the one I saw in dream-Cecilia’s eyes.

Losing myself in lust here and now would be terrible. So my solution for this was simple, I focus on my anger and wrath. From a “figurative” standpoint, one could say that the persona of Wrath pulled out a shotgun and pumped Lust full of lead. Then Wrath poured gasoline over the dead body and enjoyed the BBQ. Sure, it would only mean to delay my Lust, but considering that it was what made up a part of me, delaying was more than sufficient.

“Huh, I guess we all have our kinks. I just prefer you being the one who kneels and being the pet in that sexual fantasy.”

She may mean that figuratively, but I decided to interpret it in a literal sense. That would take a rise out of her (proven by an indignant yell of “Hey!”), and it played right in my book. An angry girl would have little chance to calm down and look at things critically, accidentally opening her up for me to exploit even it more. Sure, this was post-action rationalization (or, me finding an excuse for me doing stupid shit), but it was still beneficial for me, s… meh.

“But that asides, I’m serious, Miss Alcott. Retract your statement, this is your last chance.”  
“You are really a coward, aren’t you?”  
“No, no, you get it all wrong, Miss Alcott. I’m just lazy because there’s a saying like this: if a SpecOp is begging you for peace, he has plans to kill you a dozen times over already.”  
“What? You…”  
“Yes, I want to kill you. I have already imagined and drawn up various ways to kill you. In fact, there are no less than five ways for me to do that, right here, right now. A pity that I have an explicit order not to do so.”

Not quite, there was no such order. But then, making my country looked better was a part of my job and my duty. Again, it was a post-action rationalization. Oh, and I also lied about “more than five”, I only had two ways to take her down immediately. However, the military tactics and doctrines were quite clear on this: one must constantly use deception to trick his own enemies.

It was only now that I turned back, facing the blond British girl, and I let a cruel, bloodthirsty smile reaching my lips. A few girls at the back of the class suddenly recoiled back in horror and freight – they were the smart ones.

“And, well, Miss Alcott, the time is up, and you haven’t retracted those statements. And I can safely say this, you have fucked it up, little girl.”

Yeah, that was rich, I only reached her breast, but here, it was the aura that mattered. Well, aura and fire support, I had a shit ton of the later. The wrath inside me was giggling in anticipation.

“What do you mean? And why are you making a call?”

She was right to be surprised. Phones were banned during class time, but who in their right mind would say that to a highly pissed off soldier? Besides, the whole class looked like they were using my deeds and actions to shut Cecilia up, which suited me just fine.

Oh, and whom I called, you may ask? Well, instead of the “slightly overkill” of complaining to the UK Embassy in Japan, I went straight for the complete overkill mode. I dragged the VPA into this mess. As far as I knew, things were getting quieter back home, making many soldiers feel bored. Trust me, there was nothing more frightening than having a bored soldier. And who was a better man than my own CO? Last I checked, he was grumbling about a lack of entertainment in his office.

“Yo, kid, m…”  
“Major, sir, we are on a speaker, Yellow-level situation. Loud Mouth Bitch.”  
“… Do you have official confirmation?”

His tone changed quick, I had to give him that. He switched from a jolly man to a serious officer within a blink of an eye. Professionalism, one might say.

Behind me, Chifuyu spoke up:

“My name is Orimura Chifuyu, homeroom teacher of Class 1-1. I confirm and acknowledge that Miss Alcott has spoken multiple racist remarks.”

And then, she repeated those, just for the record and bookkeeping. Heck, she was even able to mimic the tone and annotation quite well, and she did not even bother to censor the “bad words”. I… had a bad feeling about that. On the one hand, it was the standard operating procedure. Both Major and I were professionals, so we were able to squash our anger at hearing those remarks again. On the other hand… this was the Major, he was my trainer, and he was extremely proficient at direct force application. It was a special mission requiring aggressiveness and balls.

“So, has Miss Alcott apologized for those remarks yet?”

This was bad. Major was quite jovial, care-free because not many people could be safe when he actually got serious. Now, he was getting serious. His tone was completely business-like with no place for emotion or friendliness. I only heard him using tone like that a few times, and only once with my own ears and own eyes. It was… quite troublesome to clean-up afterwards.

Upon hearing the “no” from Chifuyu, Major took a deep breath… and then, orders started flowing out:

“Cadet, you are not allowed to physically assault her under any circumstances, unless it is for sanctioned training under the Academy’s rules or for self-defence.”  
“But sir…”  
“Do you copy, cadet?”

I was not happy, to say the least. I really expected him changing the order so that I could deck that bitch. So, this was quite a surprise for me, it went against what I had been dreaming for… I protested, and well, I was cockblocked by my own commander. Within any military, orders were absolute.

“Yes, sir.”  
“Good. Now to the second order, the Chinese Cadet representative will enrol next week. What is your hypothesis on that?”  
“Upon hearing the racist remarks, the Chinese girl will definitely plunder this British lass, in the most brutal way possible. Actually, scratch the last word, it should be humanly impossible.”  
“I concur, and this is your second order: you must stop the Chinese girl from killing the British.”

What. The. Fuck?

This bitch just insulted our Motherland, and now my order was to protect her? What kind of literal bullshit was that? Since when we Vietnamese had to swallow such shame like that?

“Cadet, we are professional. Let the world see us as someone prefer peace over violence, we have a few bloodthirsty killers already. Besides, this is politics. We are not powerful enough to fuck the international rules, and we have already used up the quota of adventuring in foreign countries of this year already. Do you understand?”  
“… Yes, sir. I will do my best to prevent the Chinese Cadet representative from killing the British one.”

I was not happy with that order. In fact, I would be glad to disobey it. Cecilia had insulted and disrespected everything I held dear, and she must pay for that with her own life. Whether she died under my hand or someone else’s was immaterial. Hell, if I could have someone do that, it would be the absolute best. It was not my hands that got dirty, after all.

Still, orders were orders, and I would follow them to the tee. I had not earned the right to disobey any order yet. Only the absolute best had such right, and even then, they had to use it sparingly.

“Good. Now, as I have said, it is all politics…”

Something was up. I just had that feeling. Then, I felt it, Major was smiling – a smile of a shark smelling blood in the water.

The remaining of the phone conversation only lasted for a few minutes. However, it was more than enough to have every knicker in a twist. Cecilia looked like she almost fainted on the spot, which, to be honest, was precisely what we had been aiming for. Colours had drained from her face, her knees were wobbling and she was breathing heavily.

Vengeance was nothing but sweet.

First off, Vietnam would start considering all active trade treaty with the UK. While the trade level between the two countries was not enough to “break” the UK, a lack of fruit and other food would be more than enough to inconvenient the general population. Furthermore, rice was being used as the staple food for the poor in the UK, without imported Vietnamese rice, there would be… issues. Then, we also had some electronic products, some car parts, some aeroplane parts, and there were even a few ships we were building for the UK. All of them would be on the table, ready to be stopped dead in our port. Oh, and the UK would have to pay for the fee.

Sure, all of those would be more like some inconvenience… until the Major mentioned that we Vietnamese had a lot of credits in the world of diplomacy. The entire Asian continent would have words of the racist remarks by nightfall, and, well, that would be some serious shit going on. China would stop giving electronic and consumer items, India would refuse to sell tea leaves and clothes, Korea would stop their scientific and cultural co-operation, Singapore might actually carry out their threat of raising the docking fee…

In combination, the threat implied could break the UK economically. Hell, it could make the whole Brexit ordeal looked like a walk in the park. Speaking of Brexit, did the UK barely recover from that clusterfuck a few years back? Their economy was pretty much fragile, one push and it would go straight to the flush.

In short, Major had explicitly spoken on how to break an Empire in a calm, professional and analytic tone. It was as if he knew precisely what to do. The whole talk would be highly awe-inspiring if the real-life implication was not that dire. Every country was just waiting for a chance to pounce on the UK, making Brexit nothing more than a breeze.

“Wh… What are you doing? You can break my country by doing so!”  
“Then who is a racist and a sexist in the first place?”

Cecilia was, again, the one breaking the silence of the class. And again, I gave her no fuck. My thirst for vengeance had been fairly sated. Wrath was still in awed, and the remaining of my dark side felt no reason to press the issue further. Other than Lust (which was nothing more than my raging hormones), but no one cared about that.

“Thousands of people might starve to death! Do you have no heart?”  
“News flash little girl: thousands die every day. And besides, who trigger that? Remember, everything you do has a price. The question remains, whether do you accept the responsibility.”

She broke down… then glared at me.

“Yes, I accept the responsibility. I will become the Class Rep of Class 1-1, and then I will amend this own mistake with my deeds and skills.”

To be honest, I did not expect this. But seriously, was she high? She had just shown herself as a racist and a sexist – and her homeland was about to be shafted for that. I had little knowledge in trades, finance and stuff like that, but I still knew that pissing off the entire Asian continent could do wonders to the struggling UK economy. Major did not give me a firm number, but that was already out of his comfort zone (and we suspect that the total loss could be in the billions of pound range).

Anyhow, the point stood: she was a racist and sexist bitch, yet she had not even apologized for that and still pressed on for the Class Rep position. I had changed my mind, she was not a pompous princess bitch, she was just a child throwing tantrum. Overwhelming and dangerous tantrums, yes, but tantrum nonetheless.

“So, other than Miss Alcott here, is there anyone challenging the Class Rep-elect Nguyen Quang Anh?”

Blyat cyka.

What the heck was that Chifuyu? Which side was you on? This blond British girl here was just yelling for attention. What people should do was to ignore her, not to add fuel into the fire. Anger flared again in my gut, and I glared at my two teachers. The glare of someone who had killed was starkly different from a normal person. Maya, the diminutive green hair teacher, let out a small yell and then shrank back. However, Chifuyu, the main target, just took my hatred glare head-on.

“I’m on no one’s side but my own. Besides, there are two separate matters here, it would be highly unprofessional of you to mix them together.”

You were correct, Chifuyu, but it was more beneficial for me to do so. Besides, it was called politics, especially evident in countries where the voting season was considered as “entertainment”. That was how a black American rapper had become the current US President. At least he was sane enough not to rattle any sabre.

I held my gaze on the black hair teacher for a while. It was purely a steel versed steel fight. It was… interesting. Either she was a good poker player, or she was more than who she seemed to be. Coming from a confirmed killer, it was something to take notice. I clicked my tongue, conceding this round, there was no benefit in showing all my skills here. Besides, picking a fight with the best IS pilot of the world would be… hazardous to my health.

I would have a little problem (probably) taking her down in a conventional and non-IS fight, but there was no guarantee that she was not wearing any IS item at the moment. The risk was too high, even with the raised bar of SpecOps. Therefore, I would just bite down my anger and play by the rule. She had not shown any hostility against myself of my homeland, and for that, she would live a few days longer.

Noting my “surrender”, Chifuyu gave an almost invisible nod, then continued:

“On the one hand, Miss Alcott had made a blunder in speaking racist and sexist remarks, making her invalid from the diplomatic spectrum of the job. On the other hand, she was the only verified Cadet Representative in our class, fit for IS-duty of the Class Rep position. Therefore, I propose a duel… and Mr Nguyen, I mean an IS duel.”

She got me there. I was considering a deliberate misinterpretation of the word “duel”. Instead of using the IS suits, we would use nothing but what was available to us right here and right now. This meant that I got a distinct advantage in beating the shit out of her… With the duel being an IS duel, well, I lost that advantage. The odd would be even, somewhat.

Well, I had faced worse odds.

“Fine enough. I agree with the idea of an IS duel. Bitch, what’s your idea?”  
“My name is not Bitch, it’s…”  
“Until you apologize, I will call you by whatever insulting term I have in mind, Cunt.”

Call me cheapskate, but with the IS duel coming up, I needed whatever advantage I could have. The first angle of attack was via psychology, PSYOP, one might say. Breaking and destroying her morale would help to decrease her combat efficiency. Preferably, it would force her to concede before the fight even began. Pipe dream, sure, but it worth a shot. Besides, I still wanted to kick her. Considering her flustering, my plan was working quite well.

“So, Pussy, do you have any objection to the proposing idea of the IS duel?”  
“No. But…”  
“Good. Second question: how much of a handicap do you want?”  
“Already cheat for an easy win? Fair enough, I…”  
“You are getting it wrong, Harlot, I’m asking you how much handicap I should give to myself.”

That… take a gasp out of every single girl within the class. They had a point: she was a Class Rep, I was just a “normal” IS cadet (albeit one being male). She had a few years of intensive training, with up to a few hundred hours of flight time. In comparison, the net flight time of a student in the Academy over three years was just barely 100 hours. Such an advantage was undeniable… but then, I had a few tricks upon my sleeve too. After all, I was the only confirmed IS-killer on the planet.

“Are you insane?”  
“I consider jumping out of a perfectly good aeroplane with nothing but a piece of cloth as a good way of entertainment. For serious business, I was always fighting while being outnumbered and outgunned, where a single misstep can kill me. So… yeah, I’m a bit insane.”

The two of us stared into each other for a few more seconds, and then, she blinked first.

“Fine, if you are so inclined to failure, then show up with full ability, I will not hold back.”  
“Good to know that, Harlot. So, Miss Orimura, do you have a time and a place yet?”  
“Next Monday afternoon, after school?”

I made a quick mental checklist. I had no pressing duty at that time – in fact, I had no plan at all. It would cut into my napping and reading time, but nothing I could not handle. Luckily, the blondie was the same, which meant our rumble was confirmed. One week from now, we would have our showdown. The winner would be the Class Representative of Class 1-1.

Whatever happened, I still won. The blond British had already lost her “moral” high ground, and she was desperate for some victories to save face. I was not sure if that could save her reputation back home. The end game here was to teach her a lesson, and the proposed retaliation from multiple Asian countries was more than enough for that. If I beat her in the duel, it would just make the lesson being more personal. Furthermore, I had no desire to be a Class Rep in the first place, so even if I lost, I simply had more free time.

“Good, do both of you have your own IS suits yet, or should I book one for you each?”

I hated the stock IS suit of the Academy. The Uchigane Mk.II-d, it was a cumbersome suit, focusing more on armour and shield rather than mobility or adaptability. For the fans of the sword, it was fine. But for gun-nuts and people who needed flexibility like me, it was a shit show. Luckily, I had an answer for that.

As usual, the blondie was the first to speak up while showing her earrings:

”Yes, ma’am, this is my Blue Tears.”

Each earring was a blue crystal with a golden hook. Simple, elegant and quite efficient. Using the standard hyperspace arsenal, such common-looking item was able to hide a tactical WMD in plain sight. Not that I complain, obviously… I zoomed in on her earrings again. The left one held her physical suit, while the right one contained the weaponry. I briefly wondered what happened if I could shoot her ears down before the fight. It would not be clean, that for sure.

When it was my turn, I simply raised my left hand, pointing at my watch. Using the same mathematical principle, I stored my suit in there, along with its entire arsenal. My suit Dragoon was not as modern as Blue Tears, but it was no less dangerous thanks to a modular system and structure. Furthermore, it could use practically all kind of weaponry, giving it unparalleled flexibility.

“Oh… so you also have your own IS suit! Good… An experimental model, I presume?”

Normally, I had no reason to answer her. Confidential matter and all that jazz, besides, there was no reason to surrendering intel to the enemy (unless when I wanted to trick them). However, I saw the potential to press on PSYOP even more. After all, this info would come out eventually, and by spending more than 10 minutes on the internet, people could always come to a conclusion that fairly closed to the truth…

“No, it’s a heavily modified, Russian mass-manufactured Ratnik. Gen two-point-five, you might say.”  
“Are you serious then? I thought you have a third-gen, you want to give yourself handicaps after all. Now, with just a Gen 2.5, you have proven the current worldwide situation again: men are no longer stronger than women.”

Physically, and on average, men were still stronger than women. Still, I had to admit, IS suits was one hell of an equalizer… Until some (dominantly male) scientists and engineers got into work.

“If we went to war against you male, it would not be even five days when you surrender!”

Last year, the famous and most-used number was three. Guess that some netizen still had the meaty part called “brain”. Sure, it was some brain cells, but still better than none at all. That would be a normal boy thinking.

But a “boy” in military business would have a different reaction. He just laughed.

Because let’s be honest, it was hilarious as shit.

“My gosh, five days? Harlot, you have no idea. Yes, it was five days, but the world will see the neutralization, if not complete destruction, of the IS force.”  
“Wha… What? There is no weapon could defeat the IS suit!”  
“You are correct, but that is purely a 1 vs 1 fight, and there is no such fair fight in a war. A fair fight is a fight you would be dead by dusk.”  
“You… you cheating bastard!”  
“I will be a Commando, fighting dirty is expected from me. Oh, and if you want hard proof, I suggest you search for Operation Archer I, launched by the British armed force two years after the White Knight Incident. It was the first investigation on a hypothetical fight between the IS force and conventional military force. One the one side, there were three first-gen IS suits armed with Tabane-pattern core and fifty first-gen with mass production core. On the other side, it was the entire British armed forces, sans the WMDs, being caught off-guard. After two days, 50% of the British was neutralized, mission-killed, wounded/damaged, or dead.”  
“See! It was just for two days! And…”  
“I was not finished, Tramp! Yes, the British lost 50% of their men, but I should remark and emphasis that 10% actually happened within the first minute, considering that they were caught off-guard. However, after two days, they were still able to claim victory – with a total count of 30 mission-kills on the MPs, 15 MPs destroyed and the last five captured. The three true IS pilot was checkmated, they suffered little injury, but they could not fight anymore, having their fuel and ammunition ran out. So, yeah, you could say that after two days, the conventional British armed forces were able to DESTROY their hypothetical treacherous IS corp.”  
“It… it proved nothing!”  
“Other countries say otherwise. These names are on the public domain, so I suggest you check them out. Sure, a good chunk of that was redacted, but the remaining was quite a read. Operation Archer II and III from the UK, Operation Independence and Liberation and Operation Flagstaff from the USA, Operation Red Lotus from China, Operation White Moon and Operation Blue Dragon from South Korea. The list goes on and on, but there is a common trend: over the year, the odd for the military force to defeat the IS corps has been rising significantly. I believe that a certain scenario in Operation Flagstaff brought the military a complete victory with no loss on their own.”  
“How…?”

Oh, little girl, you were asking the right question now. Getting out of my seat, I calmly walked to her place… and then, as quickly as possible, I raised my hand and stopped it at the very last moment. It had already formed into a blade and now, it was resting on the British’s neck. There was a very small gap between my hand and her neck, of course. The order from Major still stood: I was not allowed to physically harm her.

“By removing them from the equation from the very first second.”

Her yell of freight and fear was music to my ears. Hmmh, I thought I had to reconsider the whole schmuck here. Maybe it was not too bad after all.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the chaos of the racist and sexist Cecilia, Quang Anh aims for a bit of down time after school. The author has other ideas.

On the freaking first day at the IS Academy, I was “pushed” to be the Class Rep. Half of myself was glad, considering that the dream of all boy was to become a leader. However, the other half was definitely not. In fact, that part of my mind was very grumpy and annoyed. Why? Simple, the answer could be summed up in two words.

FUCKING PAPERWORK.

Seriously, what the fuck was wrong with this Academy? The most modern school teaching the most modern tech to high schoolers, yet there were still paperback forms to be filled in by hand. Seriously, what would take more effort? Me filling in 10+ forms, or a message from Chifuyu to the server, saying that I was selected/nominated/voted as the Class Rep? It got worse though, I had to carry out the more physical aspect of my new job much earlier than I thought.

Thanks to the rumour mill, by the end of the day, the racist remarks of the British Cadet Representative had reached the entire student body. That may or may not lead to a lynch order on her head, which may or may not lead to me standing at the bottleneck and daring everyone to advance.

Article 12, Paragraph 3 of the Class Representative’s duty. In laymen’s term, it basically meant that for both before and after the official punishment of the teacher, I had to protect the girl from harm. Sure, it was honourable and chivalry, but it went against my desires… Still, it went the same as my order, so like it or not, I had to follow them through. Tracking the British was easy, I simply had to follow the trail of destruction (and I had already found out about her room beforehand). My arrival was just in time to stop the gang from finishing their surround.

Three kicks were more than enough to neutralize three girls, making a hole in their formation. Then, I simply walked into the middle of the circle, watching the British girl breaking down in front of me. She was… sobbing, crying, and moaning. All kind of jazz. Her light blond hair and her white uniform were soaked with juice and fruit.

Fucking shit. A quick and painless death was much more preferable than a slow and agonizing one. Hell, that was I picked Commando and not Intelligence service. Sure, I hated the girl… no, I loathed that bitch. But now, there was nothing but pity. Pity, and a duty.

“Disperse, leave her alone, or I will make you.”  
“Don’t you remember that she was racist against you too?”  
“I remember, that is why I fucking call my CO and proceed to sucker punch her country. Our teacher has also given her a punishment, and I consider that as case close. Now, if you don’t mind, scram or I will make you.”  
“How? We have fifteen, you have yourself and a crying bitch.”  
“Wrong. You have fifteen girls in your group, and I have seventeen rounds in my gun, plus one in the chamber.”

I calmly spoke that while bringing out the gun and clicking the safety off.

And of course, I was tricking them. The killing part was pretty much frowned upon (for obvious reasons), and guns could be discharged in accidents. Therefore, it was best not to load a gun in the first place, assuming that I knew how to quick reload (which I did). However, those girls had no idea that I was playing them like a flute, they quickly backed off and bolted away after my scoff.

It was a relatively non-violent solution, so I took that over ruckus any day.

“Come here to pity me?”

Then sometimes, Fate just kind of demanded me to donate skulls for the skull throne, and shed blood for the blood god.

“No, just following my orders. I strongly recommend you to call me when someone is trying to lynch you. Having you killed before our duel would be… a waste.”

That, and I just wanted to beat her out by myself. Sure, I was playing legally and following orders to a tee, but it did not mean that rules could not be bent or adapted. As I said earlier, honour and chivalry did not sit well with me. Not all the time.

“Yeah, like I would buy that.”

Cecilia was still sobbing, but she hid it well. I raised my eyebrows and gave her my grudging respect at that. The first time I got bullied, well, I cried and sobbed for almost the entire day. For better or for worse, my well of tears vanished almost as quickly as my source of anger appeared. No, not anger or wrath, it was just annoyance. For all intent and purpose, the British girl had been neutralized. She was not dangerous to me anymore. Unless she went renegade, but in that case, she would be a danger to everyone.

She was walking slowly to her room with quite a degree of grace. Or with as much grace as possible with juice dripping from her skirt and sobs punctured each of her steps.

Earlier, I denied that I felt any pity towards her. Though to be honest, I lied.

Sure, I wanted to do something… but I was afraid. Yeah, a Commando (a Junior Commando Officer Cadet to be precise) should have no fear, yet I did. Believe me, I would feel fear if I had to crawl under the lead storm of a machine gun so that I could throw a grenade in. But “small talk” or to console a girl like this? I would be freak out completely. And when the said girl had been a racist against me and I had just saved her arse? Yeah, I was not the protagonist of some wet dream fictions, I knew better than pushing my luck.

Still, I stood my spot, making sure that she had got in her dorm house before I moved away. She was somewhat of a grown-up. Sure, not enough to know the reasons or right from wrong, but she should be enough to take care of herself. If there was another lynch attempt, she would call for relief… or that was what I hoped. I wanted to tell her that (orders and such), but I had no way to paraphrase it into something polite.

Learnt that first-handed a while ago. Yeah, Tram was still somewhat pissed at that… even after I saved her arse a few more times.

Hell, she even decked me for trying to help her out (“trying” was the keyword). Not too hard, she still hoped for someone somewhat competent with a rifle to cover her brave charge. Or rather, as “competent” and as “brave” as possible for two scarred kids playing soldiers while being surrounded by hostile forces.

I clicked my tongue in annoyance, shooing the pessimistic thought away. I was still alive, that was what mattered. Battered, bruised… a bit broken, but now mended. Somewhat. And above all, I was operational and combat-capable. That was what mattered here. Cynical? Sure, but which veteran was not? The war had shaken me to the core, I was bound to have a lot of changes in belief (which I did).

For example, before the war, I would be somewhat eager to help other people (which would explain the whole mess I found myself in). But now, I gave it no fuck, especially when it gave me no benefit. Tatenashi, the President of the Student Council, said that she owed me a favour. Technically and legally speaking, I had to use that to make her applying pressure on the student body, making them back off from harassing and lynching Cecilia. However, there was simply no benefit for me doing so. I gained nothing, and the Brit would learn no lesson from that.

Sure, she would be bullied, but she also needed to learn her lesson. Besides, the favour owed was only known by myself and the Prez, and like the Intelligence always said: “Ignorance is Bliss”. And above all, there was one reason why I refuse to use all the tricks in my book: Cecilia had not explicitly asked for my help and intervention.

…

And why the fuck my mind was wandering to her kneeling and asking me to do so while wearing a skimpy maid outfit?

I swore, if Chifuyu made up the punishment on Cecilia with some intel on my sexual fantasies (one that I had told no one), I would probably punch her in the face. Unless she was someone that my as-yet-nonexistent girlfriend hold dearly.

==============================

With the fiasco with Cecilia solved, I had more… personal matter to attend to. Like checking on my suit again, preferably without any nosy party looking at me. Well, I got half of that. I had no nosy party, but there was definitely someone looking at me occasionally.

Three guess who I was stuck with when I phrased the request for a workshop via the official channel?

I swore, the matchmaking effort of the President was grating on my nerve now.

“Let me guess, my sister said that there was no empty workshop left.”  
“No opened workshop to be precise, this is the only one.”

Kanzashi looked pretty miffed at that. To be fair, she was taking this better than I hoped for, the conversation this morning left quite a bad taste in my mouth after all.

Yeah, it was… awkward for me to be here. I had completely no idea what to say. Hell, small talk was not my forte, and flirting clearly was not even considered in my mind. Some Casanova would know what to say to get into her pants by nightfall. Not me. I was not a womanizer… or rather, I did not know how to be one. Not that I minded…

Well, I knew that I should speak something, maybe, probably. Actually, scratch that, I did not even know if I should say something here. And even if the answer was “yes”, then I still had no idea what to say without making them upset. Therefore, I had no choice but to keep my mouth shut, which was quite easy, considering that I really did not enjoy socializing.

The last part might not be good though.

In her own section, the blue-haired girl had already made a quiet snort before going back to her own work, which occupied precisely half the workshop. Strange. Not the part where she took precisely took half of the workshop though, but rather what she was doing there. If my memory served correctly, she was the Cadet Representative of Japan. Therefore, a third-gen IS suit would be built for her, yet Kanzashi was tumbling with an Uchigane, second-gen. Strange indeed… But then, it was her story. I had learnt better to poke my nose in other’s business.

Speaking of business, I turned to watch mine: a full series of aeroplane luggage containers. Twelve, to be precise. They were my, well, my early Christmas gifts. My whole load of IS-graded weaponry was stacked inside. Lots of firepowers, those crates had. Hell, I would not be surprised if I had the heaviest firepower in the whole Academy. The run-of-the-mill students would either use a sword for an Uchigane or a rifle for a Rafael, the Cadet Reps would use their highly specialized weapons for their suits. Me? My weapons were practically ripped out of other combat vehicles and adapted for my use.

My three assault rifles? From a US warship, a Russian plane, and a German SPAAG (Self-propelled Anti-Air Gun). My sniper rifle and my designated marksman rifle? Taken from a UK tank and an Israeli artillery piece respectively. The handgun was practically a modified and sawn-off Russian artillery with auto-loader… My point was that my whole arsenal was adapted from the conventional heavy weaponry. Highly modified with some weapons reached the 35th variant or so, but still sufficiently conventional. Or as conventional as possible with the incorporation of IS tech into usage and production.

Well, talking about my guns later, now, I needed to check on my suit. It was… special, in away. Steeling my mind, I bawled my left hand into a fist. The ring, situated on my left middle finger, activated, releasing the armour from the hyperspace arsenal. A glow of yellow light encased my full body, and barely two seconds later, my shoulders noticed some weights being put on them.

In front of my eyes, the HUD quickly rebooted with lines of blue codes running at a rapid pace. Then, a very brief flash of red scanned over my eyes – that would be the iris scanner, confirming my identity. Well, I was who I was, so my suit did not trigger the lockdown feature. Originally, I asked for a self-destruct, but the idea was turned out. An explosion in the middle of the school was not “optimized”.

Well, the start-up sequence had finished, so I could safely get out of the suit. My armour could totally run its own diagnostic software while I focused on other problems, such as assembling my weaponry. Things got… interesting after that. For some reasons, Kanzashi had stopped her work and now, she was watching me intensely.

“A third-gen suit?”  
“No, a 2.5. A heavily modified one to be honest. Though for all intent and purpose, it is more like a totally new suit than a model of the old one.”  
“Which was?”  
“The original chassis is the Russian suit Ratnik, but it is heavily upgraded with components from the French Rafael, the British Comet and the Chinese Chilong.”  
“And it has a fully enclosed armour.”  
“Yep, my own request. I do not enjoy showing my body or my face.”

That and real combat experience of my own showed the standard open armour layout was a huge mistake, just begging to be exploited. Nothing illegal, per se, but definitely unconventional. But, well, Commando force considered unconventional warfare as a part of their daily life after all.

“Does it have a name?”  
“… Gundam.”  
“… I see that the Vietnamese sense of humour is as good as it is claimed.”

Yeah… About that… my suit was somehow modified to look like a Gundam with black armour. I was not sure of the model though, I only know that it was a Gundam. Still, knowing the diversity of the franchise, I would not be surprised if my suit was considered as a new variant or a new line of the Gundam, and no one would bat an eye.

Well, and I would not be surprised if the design team actually submit the photos and/or the model of my suit for a Gundam competition.

And more importantly: she knew about Gundam franchise? In recent years, such traditional and classic shows had been shelved in favour of more modern works (with a lot more skin showing and a lot less philosophy/drama). A pity and it made the question even more mysterious. Still, it was not too critical for me to find out the answer.

I glanced to her side of the workshop and notice an Uchigane suit being hooked up. Behind it and stashed in the corner was various boxes and crates. Some of them had the marks of “high explosive”. Interesting… so she was building her own suits? Sure, it was more like modifying, but this would be some serious upgrades and modifications. Not for the faint of hearts or the weak of minds.

Well, she had already opened up first, so I think I could capitalize on that to make small talks. It had been awkward enough already. I moved up next to her, and the girl was still staring at my suit with a very strange intensity in her eyes.

She was shorter than me, a bit, reaching my ear.

Something inside me dutifully noted that down.

“So… you are building your own suit?”  
“Yes.”

Impressive. That would take a Class Four Engineering certificate, minimum. Even with a super intense and personal coach, I was able to secure a Class Two only.

“With all the attachments and weaponry?”  
“Yes.”

I got even more impressed and let out a small whistle. This princess was definitely packing a mean punch. Sure, she might have her people build the suit for her own, but in that case, an Uchigane would be “beneath” her, and there would be more technicians around here. Maybe a double-check with home would not be too hurtful. Trust, but verify and all that jazz.

“That would be hard, yes?”  
“Very.”  
“Are you sure you are capable of doing so?”  
“Yes.”

I was impressed, yes, but it did not get to amazement – my emotion control was just too good. But this was getting even more awkward. Both of us were definitely shit I small talk, it seemed. I scratched at my nose, hiding my own annoyance and embarrassment. It might work or it might not.

A few seconds passed, I sighed out heavily, grumbling:

“This is awkward.”  
“No shit Sherlock.”

That one jumped me. Did the cute little princess that swear?

“Hang on, you swear?”  
“Like a freaking sailor if I had to, got a problem with that, soldier boy?”

A conservative and polite boy (ie the old me) would have a lot of troubles with that. Sure, I knew how to swear and curse (a few years in the public school system had that undesirable side-effect), but I generally shied away from it. It was just… unprofessional and impolite. But after a full brutal insurrection and the harsh Commando training course, shit like that came naturally to me. So, there was only one route left for me: I grinned

“Ain’t a problem for me. But are you sure that your older sister is cool with this shit?”  
“I’m not a princess if that is what you are implying.”

Well, there went my fantasy of calling a girl “princess”. Still, I was giggling and in a good mood, so I instantly scrapped that line of thought. There would be time for flirting later.

“For one, I would rather not to be caught off-guard by your sister. Just in case she blames me for corrupting her sister.”  
“Huh, she is the one corrupting me in the first place. Accidentally, of course.”  
“How?”  
“Have you ever tried coding?”

Just at the same time, Kanzashi’s made a beeping sound behind us, and she let loose a few more muttering words. Well, this explained everything.

The better a code segment had, well, the less “what the fuck” could be heard per minute.

I just grinned watching her doing her work from behind her back. For some reasons, I felt inspired. Not because she was mousy, or she was cute, or she was mously cute (whatever that meant), but because she represented a challenge.

Someone equal to, if not surpassed, me in talents, skills, and stubbornness.


End file.
